by Tracy Weber
I pulled into my studio parking spot two minutes before noon, which was twenty-eight minutes later than I should have arrived. A line of disgruntled students huddled outside in the rain. I gifted them with lame apologies and an autopilot sequence of Sun Salutations, twists, and other poses designed to build energy and stimulate digestion.
I wish I could say that I made up for my tardiness by teaching a fabulous class, but honestly, I have no idea if class that afternoon was good, bad, or indifferent. My body was in the room with my students, but my mind was thirty-five miles south in Tacoma, grilling Rainbow’s stepfather. I held no illusions that Dean would lead me directly to Rainbow. If he knew where his stepdaughter was hiding, he’d have her sequestered at home already. But I did think that talking with Dean might help me understand the teenage enigma. Who was Rainbow before she left home? Why had she run? Was she capable of violence? If her stepfather wasn’t willing (or able) to answer, perhaps being inside her house would give me the information I needed. Rainbow must have left traces of herself there, if only energetically. Would I be able to sense them?
I said Namaste at one-fifteen on the dot and started hustling students out the door precisely one minute later. A first-time student lagged behind, pretending to browse the books in my tiny retail area. I plastered on my best impersonation of a patient smile and moved next to her. “Did you have a question?”
“Yes,” she said. “Classes here are pretty expensive. Do you offer any new student deals?”
I bit back an unwelcome (and atypical) feeling of irritation. It was a relevant question, but I knew where this was going. “Your first class was free. I can’t make it much cheaper than that.” I winked to let her know I was kidding. Sort of.
“That’s great, but what about after that?” She pulled out a cell phone and pointed at Some Like It Hot Yoga’s website. “Fifteen dollars seems pretty outrageous when I’ll be able to take the same class for a dollar across the street.”
In spite of my best efforts, my smile wavered. “It’s not the same class. Serenity Yoga’s classes are smaller and more intimate.” At least I assumed so. The windows across the street were still covered with newsprint, and I suspected they would remain covered until the grand opening on Tuesday. “We provide individualized instruction. Our maximum class size is twenty, but most of our classes have between eight and fifteen students. Some are smaller.” I was telling the truth, but I had a hidden agenda. I was hoping she’d do the math. If we charged a dollar a class, each class would bring in less than Seattle’s minimum wage to teach it.
The twenty-something yogini frowned. “So basically, you’re telling me that you won’t match their price.”
If I didn’t end this conversation soon, I’d say something I’d deeply regret when I read myself quoted in her one-star Yelp review. I reached across my desk and pulled out two guest passes. “Tell you what. Try two more classes here as my guest. Hopefully you’ll decide we’re worth the investment.”
As a revenue-generating tactic, my multiple-free-class strategy would be an epic fail, and I knew it. My new friend would attend classes with me precisely two more times before she defected to Some Like It Hot Yoga. If I wanted to stay in business, I’d have to come up with a better strategy.
But not today. Today, I needed to get her out of the studio so I could hit the road to Tacoma. Mission accomplished. The instant my temporarily satisfied student headed toward the parking lot, I locked the studio’s front door and jogged next door to Infant Gratification.
For once, I had a sleuthing plan that would satisfy me without making Michael’s head explode. Michael would be furious if I went to Rainbow’s house alone, and honestly, I didn’t want to. My questions were too amorphous; my plan, too fractured. I needed someone to go with me. I needed a sidekick.
I needed Rene.
She sat behind the checkout desk, looking bored. My eyes swept past the new red-soled infant stilettos she had on display and landed on a black T-shirt that was folded in half on her desk. The words Some Like It Hot Yoga arched over a nubile woman posing in Warrior Two. I had a feeling the phrase Ten Classes for Ten Dollars! decorated the back.
“Seriously, Rene? You too?”
“I didn’t buy it or anything. Chad’s giving out free T-shirts to all the neighborhood businesses. He’s trying to get people excited about the grand opening. Plus, anyone who refers students to them gets a free week of yoga classes. It’s actually a pretty good marketing idea. You didn’t get a shirt?”
I felt my jaw clench. “I’m not his target audience.”
She unfolded the shirt and held it up. “It’s kind of tacky but cute. I was going to give it to the twins’ nanny, but if it bugs you too much, I’ll throw it out.”
I sighed. “It’s fine. I’m just in a bad mood. Is the nanny on twin duty today?”
“Yes, though I wish I had the girls with me. Business is dead on Fridays. Everyone who doesn’t shop earlier in the week puts it off until the weekend. I thought Friday afternoons would be the perfect time to work on new designs. But as it turns out, you can’t schedule inspiration. It comes when it comes.” She frowned. “Which obviously isn’t today. I don’t suppose you’re up for a coffee break?”
“I’ll do you one better. How about a road trip?” I quickly told Rene everything that had transpired the day before.
“Geez, Kate, I’m sorry. Sam and the rest of the board had a conference call to talk about Gabriel’s murder last night, but I don’t think he knows that you accidently saw the body. If he did, he would have told me. That must have been awful. You okay?”
I flinched. Sam. I’d been so wrapped up in visiting with Dharma and Dale and then trying to find Rainbow, I’d forgotten to call him. Again.
“Other than being a terrible friend, I’m fine. Sam probably doesn’t even know I was at the center yesterday. I meant to call, but my day got so crazy … ” My words trailed off. The excuse sounded too lame to continue. The past twenty-four hours had been crazy. I’d stumbled upon another murder, gotten my period, temporarily re-homed two rats, and spent a heart-wrenching evening confessing my fertility issues to Dharma. But none of that truly explained why I hadn’t picked up the phone. I’d avoided my two closest friends for so long, it had become second nature. That had to change.
“How is Sam?” I asked.
“Honestly? He’s horrified. Everyone at Teen Path HOME is. According to Chuck, the police have a suspect. Hopefully they’ll arrest the killer soon.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here.”
I filled Rene in on the rest of the story. That I had befriended Rainbow, that the police suspected she was the shooter, and that I was trying to prove her innocence.
“All of that happened in the last two weeks?” Rene exclaimed. “Good Lord, Kate. We have to get together more often. I’m completely out of the loop.”
“I agree, and I think we should start today. I’m going to talk to Rainbow’s stepfather, but I don’t want to go alone. Will you come with me?”
Rene perked up like a poodle who’d been offered a cookie. “You’re playing Sherlock again? Count me in!” She looped her Coach bag over her shoulder. “I’ll text the nanny and tell her to hang with the twins until Sam comes home, but we’d better get going. Traffic in Tacoma can be awful. We can strategize on the way.”
I used the one-hour drive to fill her in on everything I knew about Rainbow, what I’d learned during my conversations with Martinez, and the ideas I’d written in my notebook.
“I’d like to talk to the youth at Teen Path HOME, too.”
“It’s a good idea, but they won’t be there,” Rene answered. “The board closed the center, at least for now.”
“I heard that on the answering machine. Why?”
“Everyone’s going all wonky about the murder. The board members are executive types—super nervous about anything that would give their bus
inesses bad publicity. The donors are worse. Sam said that the board is considering closing the facility permanently. For now, they’ve decided to suspend all programs until they have time to hold an emergency in-person meeting. Sam thinks it’s a huge mistake, but he’s only one vote out of seven.”
“I get why people would be nervous, but the kids rely on the center’s services. Closing seems extreme.”
“Honestly? It is. Something weird is going on, and it has been for a while. Sam has been stressed for weeks, but he refuses to talk to me about it.”
“Sam’s keeping a secret from you?”
“Yes, and it’s not at all like him. Honestly, Kate, I don’t know whether to be insulted or worried.”
We spent the rest of the drive discussing twin toddler antics, recently started periods, and Dharma’s offer to see if Dale would pay for my IVF treatments. I thought Rene might be upset that I was willing to take money from Dale since I’d refused a similar offer from her, but in fact she was exactly the opposite.
“What a brilliant solution, Kate! It simultaneously helps you, Dale, and Dharma.”
“Well it obviously helps me. The benefit to Dale is a stretch. But how would it help Dharma?”
“She still feels guilty for leaving you when you were an infant.”
“Guilty? Why? I mean, when we first reconciled, sure, I could see that. But we’ve put all of that behind us now.”
“You’re too close to see it, Kate. I know you’ve forgiven Dharma. You know it, too. But after over thirty years of separation, the bridge you’ve built must feel terribly tenuous to her. She has a lot of skinned knees and missed birthday parties to make up for. Helping you have a child of your own is a pretty good start.”
I hadn’t thought about it that way, but Rene had a point. Dharma did have a lot of missing time to make up for. She wasn’t the only one. Guilt weighed down my shoulders. The circumstances were different, of course, and the time period was shorter. But I’d abandoned Rene exactly like Dharma had me.
I stared at the car in front of me, grateful that I wouldn’t have to meet Rene’s eyes when I spoke. “I know we talked about this already, but I’m truly sorry for ditching you for so long.”
“It’s okay, Kate, I—”
“Please let me finish. At the time, avoiding you seemed like the only way I could protect my sanity, but I was wrong. And selfish. It won’t happen again.”
I hazarded a glance in Rene’s direction. She raised her eyebrows in mock consternation. “It’d better not.” Her expression turned serious. “You hurt me, Kate. I won’t lie. But it’s over.”
“You deserved better.”
Rene stared out the passenger window for several seconds. “Do you remember that line from the movie Love Story?”
“What line?”
She turned and made direct eye contact. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
I nodded.
“Well, it’s a load of crap. Love means never holding a grudge.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “We’re good, I promise.”
We drove ten more miles in companionable conversation. “We’re making super good time today,” Rene said. “When is this guy expecting us?”
“His name’s Dean Boothe, and he’s not. I didn’t tell him that we were coming.”
“You didn’t call first?”
“No. I was afraid he’d refuse to see us. That’ll be harder to do if we’re standing on his doorstep.”
“But Kate, it’s a Friday afternoon. He’s probably at work. We might be driving all this way for nothing.”
“Not for nothing. If Dean’s not home, we can talk to the neighbors. But I’m betting he’ll be there. Rainbow described him as an alcoholic, and not a high-functioning one. She flat-out said he wasn’t able to hold down a job. If he’s not camped on a barstool somewhere, he’ll be home.” I hoped.
I exited off the freeway and navigated through the side streets of South Tacoma. Rene rummaged through her bag and pulled out a makeup mirror. She touched up her lipstick and blush, then slid off her wedding ring and zipped it inside her coin purse. Rene’s version of going undercover.
“You do realize that Dean’s married, right?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, you’d be surprised how seldom that makes a difference.”
Actually, I wouldn’t.
Rene had some magical hold over men. As her best friend, I used to resent the cloak of invisibility I wore in her presence. As an amateur sleuth, I relished it. Male suspects were much more likely to say something foolish when Rene was in the room. I couldn’t explain it. Rene was gorgeous, but there were millions of gorgeous women in the world. Rene’s magic was deeper. More primal. She exuded some intoxicating pheromone that anesthetized the male brain. Rene was the queen bee, men were her workers.
She pointed to a small, single-story rambler. “This is it.”
I’m not sure what I’d expected. A crumbling-down crack house? A muddy, weed-infested yard scattered with used condoms and hypodermic needles? Maybe a condemned wreck with boarded up-windows.
Rainbow’s home was none of that. It wasn’t glorious, either. Just a small gray-blue house that could have used a good landscaper. The rose bushes along the sidewalk were overgrown, and the weed-choked grass hadn’t seen a lawn mower in months. But from the outside, at least, the house looked like an average lower-middle-class home. Rainbow may not have liked her stepfather, but he and her mother had kept their lives together, at least on some level.
“Okay, Kate,” Rene said. “What’s our plan?”
“To be honest, I don’t have one. My primary goal is to find Rainbow. I hope her stepfather—or her mother, if she’s back—can connect us with her friends or tell us places that she used to hang out. If not, maybe they’ll let us look through her room.”
Rene wrinkled her lips, unimpressed.
I shrugged. “It’s a start.”
“Do you at least have a cover story?”
I probably should have had one, but history had proven that I was a terrible liar. An admirable quality in a yoga teacher; not so handy as a budding detective. “I’m going to stick to the truth, at least as much as possible.”
“So what’s my role?” Rene asked.
“The day I saw Rainbow’s stepfather at Teen Path HOME, he wasn’t exactly friendly. I don’t know if he’ll remember me, but if he does, the association won’t be pleasant. I’m hoping you can sweeten him up and convince him that my finding Rainbow is in his best interests.”
“His, not hers?”
“Both, if possible. I don’t know how much he cares about Rainbow, but if what she told me is true, he certainly cares about himself.”
“Sounds like a real charmer.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know what to believe, at least not yet. Martinez doesn’t think Dean was parent-of-the-year material, but Dale warned me not to make too many assumptions, and he’s right. I’ve only heard Rainbow’s side of the story. Who knows how much she’s embellished? Dean could be anything from an abusing jackass to an overbearing man who, in spite of appearances, loves his stepdaughter. We should go in assuming either could be true.”
“In other words, we’re winging it.”
“Pretty much.”
As we walked up the sidewalk, I examined Rainbow’s home. It seemed perfectly harmonious and yet oddly out of place with its neighbors. The single-story structure was small, about the same size as my Ballard bungalow. The roof, shingles, and paint were in good condition, indicating that until recently, the house had been well cared for. The windows, however, were filthy. Garbage overflowed the outside trash can and spilled onto the driveway. I glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then took a peek under the lid. Beer bottles. Lots of them. I led Rene up the single step to the doorway, rang the doorbell, and waited.
Nothing. No barking dogs
, no nosy neighbors, no footfalls on the other side. Only a stern-looking No Solicitors sign to keep Rene and me company.
“Told you we should have called first,” Rene said.
I pressed the doorbell again. No response. “I was convinced he’d be home.”
“Well then, let’s make sure that he isn’t.” Rene lifted a French-manicured finger and pressed the doorbell over and over and over again.
“Rene, stop that. It’s annoying.”
She kept pushing. “That’s the point.”
After the twelfth repetition, a sluggish male voice came from inside. “Oh for Christsakes. I’m coming. Can’t you read?”
The corners of Rene’s mouth lifted. She turned to me and winked.
The door cracked open and a single bloodshot eye peered through it. “Read the sign. No solicitors. Or bill collectors. Or religious freaks. Basically, get the hell off my doorstep.”
I gave Rene a let-me-handle-this look and reached out my hand. “Hello. You’re Dean Boothe, correct?”
“Who’s asking?”
My name’s Kate Davidson. I’m a staff member at Teen Path HOME, and I’m here about your stepdaughter.” It was close to the truth, anyway. I did work at the center, even if it was as a contract yoga teacher.
“She ain’t here. She’s a runaway.” He wrinkled his face at me, as if attempting to focus. “Have I met you before?”
“Not officially, no. But I was on site the day you came to pick up Rainbow.” I almost slipped and said the day you tried to abduct Rainbow, but I checked myself. “She hasn’t been at the center since then, and I’m trying to find her. She’s in trouble.”
“Yeah, I know all about it. The cops told me. And like I told them, so what else is new? That kid’s been trouble since the day I hooked up with her mom. Rest assured, when she gets back I’ll kick some sense into her.”
Rene’s body stiffened, but her facial expression remained friendly. “Teenagers can be challenging, that’s for sure.”
Dean’s liquidy eyes washed over Rene, but they showed zero attraction. The cloud of Budweiser-laced body odor surrounding him must have dampened the effect of her pheromones. “Who are you?”