by Tracy Weber
I handed Von some money and tucked the doormat under my elbow. “That’s our cue. Thanks for talking with us. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I was halfway to the door when I heard a low grumble. “That manipulative, man-stealing poser was no loss.”
I turned to look back, but Von was already heading toward the poodle owner wearing a huge, hairy smile. “How’s Bruiser today?”
The door closed behind us. “Did you hear that, Rene?”
“Hear what?”
I frowned at the door. “Nothing. I thought Von mumbled something as we were leaving.” I gestured to the outdoor seating area. “Come on. Let’s have a seat.”
We grabbed a wrought-iron table nestled between Puppies in Paradise and the Jitterbug Java coffee shop next door. A red arrow labeled CB Cuts pointed up a narrow stairway between the two businesses. Crystal’s hair salon, I assumed. Jimmy’s mother was still immersed in her paperback two tables away.
Rene turned her back to me. “Take Alice so I can sit down, would you?” I fed Bella her five-dollar cookie, then pulled the adorable blonde sweetheart out of the backpack and snuggled her against my chest.
My sitting bones had barely touched the chair when Jimmy spied Bella. “Puppy!” he yelled. Bella leaped to the end of her leash, hoping to drown his cheeks in warm, sloppy kisses. This time, Zoey prevailed. She grabbed his plump little wrist and pulled him onto her lap. “Not now, Jimmy. You have to stay with Mommy.” She gave me a wan smile, ignored the toddler’s tearful complaints, and returned to her book.
Rene flopped into the chair next to me and flashed a happy smirk. “I was pretty good with Von in there, don’t you think?”
“You were, indeed. But was the lovers-in-paradise charade really necessary? I mean, seriously.” I put my voice solidly in singsong. “‘Us poor helpless females have no man to protect us’? What is this, the 1950s?”
“It kept him talking, didn’t it? If I’d left it up to your bumbling interrogation, Von would have clammed up as soon as you asked him why he hated Gabriella.” That wasn’t my actual question, but I let it slide. “Thanks to me,” Rene continued, “he told us plenty.” She ticked off the points on her fingers. “One: Gabriella and Crystal stayed in contact after Michael left town. They may have been lovers. Two: Crystal still works upstairs in this building. The very same building, might I remind you, that Gabriella called home.” Her smirk deepened. Sharp canine teeth sparkled in the sunlight. “He even gave me an idea for a cover story you can use to talk to Crystal.”
I glared at her through narrowed eyes. “What cover story?”
Rene ignored me and kept talking. “Three: If Gabriella was afraid that her ex-boyfriend was stalking her, she didn’t tell anyone about it.”
“That one’s a stretch,” I countered. “Von didn’t hear about it, but that doesn’t mean Gabriella didn’t tell anyone. I do have a fourth, though. Von wasn’t exactly a fan of Gabriella.”
“He blamed her for losing Michael’s friendship.”
“That was certainly part of it. But I have a feeling it was more than that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something Von wasn’t willing to admit. Maybe Shannon was right and Von was in love with Michael. If so, he might have been resentful about a lot more than losing touch with a friend. Jealousy can be a powerful motive.”
Rene clapped her hands together, clearly delighted. “We’ve already found a new suspect! Not bad for our first undercover op.”
“I agree, but why lie and tell Von that we’re traveling alone? I wouldn’t volunteer that information to a stranger even if it were true.”
“My options were limited. He’s gay, so my feminine wiles would only go so far. I was forced to tap into his protective caveman instincts instead. Besides, I figured he might open up to us more if he thought we were gay, too.” She shrugged. “Something in common.”
“I’ll admit, your ruse seemed to work. But Rene, I promised Dale that we wouldn’t ask any questions about the murder.”
“You did?” Rene winked. “Well, that was silly of you, wasn’t it?” She looked annoyingly proud of herself.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you’re in charge of telling him about this, and he’s not going to be happy.” I stood and wrapped Bella’s leash around my hand. “Come on, let’s head back. I need to get some enzymes into this beast or I’ll regret giving her all of those treats around midnight.”
I put Alice back into the carrier and followed Rene to the sidewalk. I would have kept chiding her all the way to the car, but when we were a few steps away from the street, Bella froze, halting my forward motion and practically dislocating my shoulder. “Bella, knock it—” I stopped mid-sentence.
Something was wrong.
Bella stared straight ahead, teeth exposed, ears pricked forward. The guard hairs along her spine stood on end like the quills of an angry porcupine. Low growls rumbled from deep in her chest.
“What is it, sweetie?” I kneeled next to her and followed her gaze. She’d locked on a man who was standing—or rather skulking—in a dark, narrow alley across the street. He wore a camouflage baseball cap.
“It’s him,” I whispered.
Rene glanced left to right. “It’s who?”
The stranger looked up and we made eye contact. For the first time, I got a good look at his face. Dark hair. Tan, weathered skin. Light blue, almost icy, eyes. He turned and bolted down the alley.
As to what happened next, I can only plead temporary insanity.
“Rene, stay here.” I ordered. I thrust Bella’s leash into her hand and broke into a run, determined to catch the suspicious stranger.
“Where are you going?” Rene yelled to my back.
I ignored her and shoved past an elderly woman. “Excuse me.” I dodged to the right and twirled past a young mother pushing a stroller. “Sorry!” I leapt over a low bench and landed—hard—on the edge of my right foot. Pain jolted from my ankle to my knee. I recovered my balance and kept running, but the camo-capped man ran faster. He was getting away!
I didn’t think. More importantly, I didn’t look. I acted on pure instinct. I darted off the curb and into the busy street. The driver of a black pickup truck slammed on his brakes.
The next three seconds passed with petrifying clarity. The horrified expression on the driver’s face; the ear-piercing screech of locked tires against pavement; the chemical smell of burning rubber; the sour taste of adrenaline. I gaped down at my knees, or more accurately at the truck’s bumper, which had stopped an inch from my legs. The driver leaned out his window and yelled, “Jesus, lady! Watch where you’re going!”
“My fault!” I yelled. I started running again.
Across the street, down the alley, and out to the sidewalk on the other side. I skidded to a stop, lungs heaving, and whipped my head back and forth.
The suspicious stranger had vanished.
ten
By the time I arrived at Shannon’s later that afternoon, I was dying to hear everything. About Michael, his relationship with Gabriella, and what had transpired with the police the night before. I considered trying to nudge the information out of Michael, but I’d already broken Dale’s no-sleuthing order once today and Rene wasn’t present to veto him this time. Dale had insisted on meeting with Michael and me in private. Meaning that Shannon, Rene, and Sam had to make themselves scarce.
Rene and Shannon were less than pleased, but they eventually acquiesced. What choice did they have? Rene and Sam opted to go to Seaside for dinner and then relax in the rental house. Shannon used the time to make sure the final plans were in place for the Sandcastle Festival fun run and yoga class.
Ugh. The yoga class.
Lord how I wished I’d never agreed to teach that yoga class. I hadn’t found an instant of inner peace since I’d learned that Michael was married. How on earth was
I supposed to create it for others?
Still, like Dad always told me: a promise is a promise is a promise. Shannon needed my help, and I would not let her down, at least not intentionally. I would show up at her event on Saturday afternoon, and I would teach. What and how effectively? That was a problem for another day. Today’s problem was Michael.
Michael and I waited for Dale in Shannon’s living room, making meaningless small talk and avoiding eye contact. Neither of us had an appetite, and we’d opted to avoid alcohol to keep our minds clear, so I sipped coffee while Michael busied his hands playing with a glass of ice water. Sweat beaded both the glass and the back of my neck. The sour stench of anxiety emanated from underneath my armpits.
“It’s almost four. Shouldn’t Dale be here by now?” I asked.
“Be patient, Kate. It’s a long drive.”
As if I didn’t know that.
Bella tried to diffuse the tension between us the best way she knew how. She brought Michael her red rope toy, dropped it at his feet, and barked, clearly saying, Hey you! Stop sulking and play with the dog!
Michael picked it up, offered it back to her, and gave it a halfhearted tug. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Everything’s okay.”
Liar.
What felt like a thousand years—but was actually thirty minutes—later, an ancient engine growled through the open window. Bella abandoned the living room and charged the door, barking notice to ax murderers and UPS drivers everywhere: Beware! German shepherd on duty!
I peeked through the blinds at Dale’s orange rattletrap Plymouth pickup, which was parking on the street behind a car that I assumed was Shannon’s Chevy. Dale sat in the driver’s seat. The passenger’s seat was empty. “Michael, put Bella in one of the bedrooms. I don’t see Dharma or Bandit, but we should lock her up, just in case.”
Bella and Bandit, Dale’s incorrigible Jack Russell terrier, had a love-hate relationship. As in Bandit loved to terrorize Bella, and Bella hated every hair on Bandit’s black-spotted body. Thus far, their scuffles had been more symbolic than physical, but I didn’t want to take any chances. One murder was enough to deal with this weekend.
I flung open the front door as soon as the bedroom door clicked shut behind Bella. “Dale, I’m so happy you’re here!” I gestured toward his outfit. “You look fantastic!”
I barely recognized the man standing on Shannon’s doorstep. Instead of his normal attire of jeans, flannel shirt, and goat-dung-encrusted work boots, Dale wore a three-piece suit, red silk power tie, and a short, recently trimmed beard. The only hint of the goat farmer I adored was the Stubborn Old Goat baseball cap he held between his hands.
“Kate-girl, it’s good to see you, too!” He wrapped me in a huge hug, then leaned back and peered at me intently. “You look exhausted. I’d ask how you’ve been, but we both know the answer to that, and it ain’t good.”
Michael appeared beside me. His eyes flicked to Dale, then down to the floor. “Thanks for coming.”
Dale acknowledged him with a single, curt nod.
I pointed at his pickup. “Where are Dharma and Bandit? Did you already drop them off at Rene’s?” With all of the hotels in town booked, Dale would never have found lodging, so Rene had texted him, inviting him to bring his entourage and stay at the beach house.
“Sorry, Kate. Dharma’s back on Orcas, taking care of the critters.”
“She didn’t come with you?” I’d assumed that if Dale came to Cannon Beach, Dharma would be right beside him. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to see my mother. Needed to see her, even. To lean on her. To draw from her strength. This insight surprised me. Until a few months ago, I hadn’t known—hadn’t wanted to know, for that matter—that my mother existed. Now I couldn’t imagine life without her.
Dale gave me a squeeze. “Dharma wanted to be here, Kate, believe me. She couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t?” Michael’s voice sounded skeptical.
Dale’s sounded downright cranky. “Think it’s easy to find someone to take care of sixty-three donkeys and thirty-four goats on short notice? We were lucky to get coverage for my duties. Believe me, Dharma has her hands full. Besides, the last jenny is due this weekend. Dharma won’t feel comfortable leaving her until the colt is born.”
Dharma and Dale were still adjusting to the “asses” part of their animal rescue, Dale’s Goats and Dharma’s Asses. They had recently rescued fifty donkeys from a Mexican meat packing plant, many of them pregnant. Fourteen, by my calculations.
“Can she take care of the farm by herself ?” I asked.
“She’ll be okay for now. Your mother’s a hard worker. We have volunteers, and the young’uns who helped out with the petting zoo this past spring agreed to work a few hours after school. If I’m still here in Oregon next week, Dharma will hire some temporary farmhands and join us.” He pointed to the door. “Are you two going to invite me inside, or do you want to talk about your legal troubles in front of the neighbors?”
I opened the door wider. “Of course, please come in.”
Michael reached out his hand, but stopped when Dale didn’t grasp it. Dale frowned, then steeled his shoulders. “Before we start, I need to get something off my chest.” He pointed at me with his thumb. “Kate here is like a daughter to me. You, well, I always thought of you as a friend.” He paused, whiskers trembling. “But man, Michael, what in the holy hell were you thinking? Not telling our Kate-girl that you were married? As my granddaddy would’ve said, that’s lower than lice on a rattlesnake’s belly.”
Michael flinched but remained silent.
Dale continued. “When all of this is over, you and I are gonna have ourselves a little talk about how to treat a woman. And there’d better be whiskey involved. Lots of it.” He scratched his chin hairs and slowly shook his head left to right. “As for Kate’s mother, well, that woman has a temper. You’d best be avoiding Dharma until she calms down. Maybe in a century or two.”
I instinctively jumped to Michael’s defense. “Why’s Dharma so quick to judge? She wasn’t exactly perfect when she was married to my father.”
“Indeed,” Dale replied. “A juicy little tidbit I mentioned to her last night.” He shuddered. “Which was a mistake I will never repeat. Getting kicked in the head by one of those donkeys would have been significantly more pleasant.”
Michael finally spoke. “I screwed up, Dale. Believe me, I know. Someday I hope to make it up to Kate. To everyone. That will never happen if I spend the rest of my life in prison.” He hardened his jaw. “I understand why you’re angry, and I appreciate your taking the time to drive down here. You’re the best defense attorney I know. Hell, you’re the only defense attorney I know.” He swallowed. “But I’m not sure you should represent me.”
He had to be kidding. No one in their right mind fired Dale. Dale was a legend. He rarely lost, even when his clients were guilty. Drinking himself into oblivion and now this? Had Michael gone from reckless to self-destructive?
“Michael, I think you should—”
He held up his hand. “Please, Kate, let me finish.” He turned back to Dale. “You don’t have to respect me. You don’t even have to like me. But if you’re going to be my lawyer, you have to believe in me. Be honest: should I look for another attorney?”
I hoped against hope that Dale’s answer would be a firm no.
Dale met Michael’s gaze, unflinching. “I won’t lie. I’m disappointed in you, Michael. Frustrated. Furious on behalf of Missy Kate here. It would be disingenuous of me not to say so.”
I started to interrupt, but Dale gave me a shush now look, stopping me.
“But I still like you. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. And of course I believe in you. There’s no way you’re guilty, at least not of murder. You’re not capable of that kind of evil.” The right side of Dale’s mouth lifted into his trademarked southern grin. “Frankly, t
hat makes you infinitely more appealing than most of my clients.” He scratched his fingers along the sides of his beard. “If you want another attorney, well, that’s up to you. But rest assured, if you allow me to represent you, I’ll do my level best to get you out of this mess.” He gestured to me with his eyes. “What Kate here does with you after that is up to her. So, what do you say?”
Michael held Dale’s gaze for several long seconds, then reached out his hand again. “Then I say I want to hire you, if you’ll have me.”
This time, Dale shook it.
I released the breath I’d been unconsciously holding. “Okay, boys. Glad we got that out of the way. Now that you’re both done swaggering, let’s go to the living room.”
Michael released Bella from her bedroom prison. She did a quick happy dance around Dale before settling at his feet next to the guest chair. Michael and I claimed opposite ends of the couch.
Dale pulled out a legal pad. “Okay, Michael. Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”
I remained silent while Dale took copious notes. Michael’s story began three years earlier and covered familiar ground, including everything he and Shannon had already told me: how he’d met Gabby when she was working as a waitress at Sunbathers, how she’d been brought to the States on a guest worker visa, and how he’d agreed to marry her so she wouldn’t be forced to go back to Mexico.
“You married her when her H-2B visa was set to expire?” Dale scolded. “Talk about raising a red flag. Do you have any idea how stupid that was? Marriage fraud is a felony. Even if we get you off on the murder charge, you could still do prison time.”
“Only if Immigration finds out that their marriage was illegitimate,” I said. “And I don’t see why they would, if they haven’t already. The reason Michael and Gabriella got married isn’t relevant to her murder.”
“Not relevant?” Dale asked. “Seems mighty relevant to me.”