Biggie and the Devil Diet - By Nancy Bell Page 0,38

her parental rights severed, so she was shunted from one foster home to another. Some of them were pretty horrible, to hear her tell it."

"How did she end up here?" Biggie wanted to know.

Laura looked down at the table. "I found her," she said.

"And?"

"Well, that's what we do. This is not a fancy spa for rich people's children. A lot of people think it is, and I'll admit we do take in some paying guests. It helps with the bills. But mostly we try to locate needy kids who have a hard enough time making lives for themselves without also being hampered by their weight."

"All right, Mrs. Barnwell," the ranger said, "now tell us what happened here tonight."

"Well, as I said, we were having our drinks when Stacie came into the room. She was hysterical; she had a gun. When I tried to calm her, she somehow grabbed me and held the gun to my head. She dragged me into the study and locked the door."

"You must have been scared."

"Not really. You see, I make a point of knowing all my girls. I knew exactly how to handle Stacie. I talked to her, you know, reassured her— and, well, she handed me the gun. It was then we heard the gunshot, and the lights went out."

"Did you fire the gun?"

"Oh, no."

Biggie opened her mouth to speak, but then she snapped it shut.

The ranger clicked off the recorder. "That will be enough for now, Mrs. Barnwell. I know Mr. Barnwell's death is a terrible shock."

I looked at Biggie, but she was watching Laura leave the room. The ranger called after her. "Mrs. Barnwell, I wonder if you would mind sending in Miss Grace."

Grace told pretty much the same story. "The problem with Laura is she's too darn trusting. Most of these girls have much more going on than their weight problems. That's the beauty of our regime here. We treat the whole person: mind, body, spirit. Love and discipline, that's our theme. Laura, bless her, has oceans of love to give; but when it comes to discipline, her tank's on empty. She especially wanted to pamper Stacie, although in truth, Stacie needs a stronger hand than most. She has rebelled against the program since she came here."

"What does the program consist of?" the ranger asked.

With that, Grace launched into the whole story of the diet again. It was very boring. "I suppose you've heard of the mind/body connection?" She looked like she didn't think he had.

The ranger nodded.

"Well, first, we immerse the girls in positive affirmations. They read and study for two hours a day, only the great thinkers of our time: Norman Vincent Peale, Dale Carnegie, the Maharishi, Anthony Robbins…"

Biggie covered her mouth with her hand.

"That's the mind part. For the nourishment of the spirit, we use body movement, moon baths, certain yoga techniques, that sort of thing." She looked at the ranger, who nodded again.

"Now, as to the body, hard work and a sensible diet is the secret. There are no aerobics classes here, no exercise equipment. We don't believe in meaningless use of the body. Hard work, that's the answer to weight loss. When the girls see the results of a job well done, they get a real sense of accomplishment."

The ranger stood. "Thank you, Miss Higgins. You may… oh, one other thing. What is your impression of Laura Barnwell?"

Her face softened. "She is the sweetest, most adorable… no, let me restate that. She is my business partner; and with the exception of the matter of discipline, we are of one mind about the services we offer here. It is my hope that what happened tonight will not put an end to that."

After she left the room, the ranger turned to Biggie. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Both those women. Start with Laura." The ranger got up to make sure the door was closed, then came back and sat down.

"She means well, I think." Biggie poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and took a sip. "Dogooder, of course— thinks she can save the world. Makes me think of Ollie Sistrunk. She goes to our church. Awhile back, Ollie decided chickens were getting a raw deal. She'd seen them being trucked around town about forty chickens crammed into these little bitty cages— and she'd seen some TV show about cruelty to chickens. So she organized a march out to Birdsong's Fresh-As-a-Daisy Chicken Farm and Processing Plant to protest. Naturally, she didn't get many marchers, doncha