Murber Strikes a Pose

by Tracy Weber

  I stifled a yawn and continued speaking in low, soft tones, as if wrapping my students in a verbal cocoon. “Pretend you’re lying on a warm beach, soaking up the summer sun. Allow the sun’s warmth to spread throughout your entire body.” My own body swayed. A soft snore fell from my lips.

  Get it together, Kate. This is ridiculous.

  Yoga Nidra might be called “the divine sleep,” but I was practically comatose. I stood up, glanced around the room to make sure no one was looking, and took a deep drink of the quadruple Americano I’d hidden behind the flowers.

  I tried to stay upright as I continued. “Feel the right side of your body, and imagine light pouring through it, all the way down through your fingers and toes …”

  Thirty interminable minutes later, my students folded their blankets and prepared to leave. I hoped they felt significantly more rejuvenated than I did. Only one thought kept me upright as I ushered them to the door: If I worked quickly, I could clean up and be on my way home in ten minutes. A first-time student browsed through the retail area until everyone left, then approached me, smiling.

  “What a perfect way to end the day. I’ve never felt more rested.”

  That makes one of us.

  I walked him toward the door, counting the seconds until I could go home.

  One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand—

  “Do you have a second? I’d like to ask you a quick question.”

  Ugh. I pasted on a fake smile and said yes.

  At least twenty questions and forty-seven minutes later, I locked the door behind him.

  Ten-seventeen. I wanted desperately to go home and crawl into bed, but first I had to prepare the studio for the next day’s classes. I considered leaving Bella in the car, but the thought of her sad, lonely eyes guilt-tripped me into bringing her inside. She pulled me into the studio and enthusiastically sniffed around, before quickly deciding that nothing interesting had happened since the evening before. Apparently bored again, she curled up in a corner to watch me clean.

  “You know, I go through a lot of trouble for you, Missy Dog,” I grumbled. “You could at least learn to push the dust mop.”

  Bella had no janitorial aspirations. She had a more important responsibility: self-appointed head of security. She sprang to her feet and roared, jumbo-sized claws scratching into the hardwood floor. Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Guard dog on the job!

  What was she all riled up about now?

  Bella charged to the lobby and hurled herself at the door, or more accurately at Jake, who stood behind it, knocking and waving. “What are you doing here?” I yelled through the window. “We’re closed!”

  “I know, but Alicia told me you’re having trouble with the lights. I’m here to take a look at them.”

  “Now’s not a good time. The dog will never let you in.”

  “Now is the only time if you want them fixed this week. Put the dog away and let me in! I’m tired of standing out here shouting.”

  I should have known I wouldn’t get off that easily. “Hang on,” I said, resigned to an even later night. “I’ll take her out back and lock her in the car. I’ll be right back.”

  I dragged the snarling monster-beast outside and shoved her in the car, so exhausted I felt like weeping. A thousand dollars for an electrician suddenly felt like nothing. I’d have traded the winning Lotto ticket to go home and collapse in my comfy warm bed.

  I forced myself back to the studio, one heavy step at a time. When I opened the door, Jake sat comfortably in my chair with his feet on the desk, jangling a huge set of keys. “I have the master key, so I let myself in.”

  I looked pointedly at his boots. “I’m glad you made yourself at home.”

  “I figured there was no need to stand outside in the cold,” he replied, ignoring my sarcasm. “I would have come in before, but I was afraid that dog would eat me.” He shuddered. “God, I hate that thing. I told Alicia you were crazy to keep it.”

  “I’m not keeping—oh, never mind.” I sighed.

  Jake swung his legs off the desk and planted his boots on the floor. He looked from my eyes to my feet and back again. “You’re looking really good, by the way. Is that a new haircut?”

  I looked like a zombie, and I hadn’t changed my hairstyle in months. I took several steps back, suddenly wishing my new student hadn’t left so quickly. “Jake, it’s late. What are you doing here after ten at night, anyway?”

  “I’ve been around the complex a lot lately. People are all riled up about that murder.” He frowned. “You know, it’s bad enough that we have to let those bums hawk their stupid paper on our property. Couldn’t they at least have the courtesy to get themselves killed in their own part of town?”

  “Your empathy and dedication astound me.”

  Jake stood up and angled closer. “Yeah, well, we can’t have you lady folk all in a tizzy. Someone’s got to make you feel safe at night.”

  Did he really think I’d paid him a compliment? I tried changing the subject. “Let me show you what’s going on with the lights.”

  Jake followed me into the yoga room. “I heard you found the body. What was that like?”

  “It was horrible.” I reached for the light switch. “Now, the flickering doesn’t always happen, but when it does—”

  “Aren’t you scared to walk through the parking lot by yourself now? Half the ladies in the apartments are scared out of their wits. They want extra security lights, neighborhood patrols, better locks—their demands have been driving me crazy. They act like we’re made of money.”

  I could have argued that he was, indeed, rich, but I doubted it would make any difference. “No, Jake, I’m not scared. The neighborhood is as safe as it ever was. George was targeted deliberately.”

  Jake stepped back, looking surprised. “What makes you say that? The cops are convinced the guy was killed in some drunken fight. Not that I wouldn’t like a different explanation, but aren’t you letting your imagination get the best of you?”

  Exhaustion left me cranky. “Believe me, Jake, I know what the police think. I’ve talked to them, too. But I knew George, and he had a routine. He never stayed in Greenwood after seven.”

  “Come on, Kate. You can’t possibly know—”

  “And he hated leaving Bella alone. He wouldn’t have locked her up unless he had a compelling reason.” I crossed my arms, defiant. “No matter what the police think—no matter what you think, for that matter—whoever killed George knew him. His murder was premeditated.”

  Jake’s mouth fell open. “You think someone planned to kill him? That’s ridiculous! Look, I’ll be the first to admit that those street bums can be annoying as hell. But the guy who was killed seemed essentially harmless. Who’d hate him enough to commit premeditated murder? Sorry, Kate, but the police’s theory makes a lot more sense.”

  “You’re wrong, Jake,” I replied. “I’ve been looking into this on my own, and I know something that you don’t. George was blackmailing someone. That’s who killed him.”

  Jake flinched, as if startled. “Be serious, Kate. Who would he blackmail, the local street preacher?”

  That, of course, was the critical question. And I still didn’t have an answer.

  “Maybe he was blackmailing you!” Jake teased. “I hear you yoga people are into some pretty weird stuff. Wasn’t the Kama Sutra a yoga text? Maybe you’ve got something going on here that I don’t know about.” He elbowed my ribs, grinning. “A little ‘happy ending’ yoga, perhaps?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  I ground my teeth together. I knew Jake was kidding, but I still felt like slugging him. “Look, Jake. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m not going to stop looking until I figure it out. Now, can we change the subject, please? I thought you wanted to look at the lights.”

  We spent the next twenty minutes playing with tho
se blasted lights. I turned them on and off. I dimmed them. I put them on full strength. I tried every possible setting. They’d acted up all week but now that I wanted them to misbehave, they were in perfect working condition.

  “I swear, Kate. Sometimes I think you make up excuses to spend time with me. These lights are fine.” He eased closer. “But feel free to call if you want me to come back. Maybe we can figure out a creative way to break them.” He paused meaningfully. “Only leave the dog at home.”

  He walked half out the door then turned back. “Kate, I still think you’re wrong, but you might want to stay out of this murder business, just in case. Messing around in murder sounds like a good way to get hurt. I’d hate to see that pretty rear of yours in trouble.”

  He’d been gone almost ten minutes before I realized I’d forgotten to tell him about the broken door.

  twenty-one

  I awoke the next morning to the steady drip, drip, drip of Chinese water torture. Fluid fell from above, landing squarely between my eyebrows. Was this the universe’s newest prank—a roof leak? I slowly cracked open one eye, terrified of what I might find. I came face-to-face, or rather nose-to-drippy-nose, with a bored-looking German shepherd. Bella towered over me, willing me to awaken. Drool fell drop by drop from her lower lip, splashing into an ever-expanding pool of saliva on my forehead. “Gross! Knock it off!” I yelled, sitting up and vigorously wiping my face. “Can’t you at least close your mouth?”

  Bella leaped off the bed and began her morning barking ritual. Listen up! she announced. It’s breakfast time! I jumped up and joined her, determined to make today a better day. After all, we create our own destinies, right? I prepared Bella’s food and set the timer. The pulverized, moistened, medicated kibble needed at least twenty minutes to incubate before Bella could consume it. I decided to spend that time nourishing my own body with a revitalizing yoga practice.

  I started the same way ancient yogis began their morning practices over a thousand years ago. I faced my mat east— to honor the morning’s sunrise—and began the first of twelve Sun Salutations. The strong flow sequence warmed my muscles and revitalized my mind. A delicious burning sensation spread across my arms and shoulders, then down my belly and legs, as I floated through each repetition. Rivulets of sweat dripped down my back, but my breath continued to be long, smooth, strong, and deep—evidence that I worked effectively without overexerting.

  Bella watched my movements curiously, as if trying to decipher the point of this strange human game. At first she tried to join in by licking my face each time I lowered my body to the floor. When that didn’t work, she nudged my hands as I returned to standing, either looking for treats or hoping for neck scratches. She eventually gave up and wandered to the corner, where she lay down and watched me, her expression a mixture of confused boredom.

  “Sorry, pup. You wouldn’t understand.”

  By the time I finished practicing forty-five minutes later, my mind buzzed with the energy of a caffeine addict after a triple shot of espresso—but without the annoying jitters. A delicious tingling energized my fingers and toes; a sensation of warmth spread across my shoulders, back, and thighs. My body rested heavily on the mat, as if rooted to the earth, but my heart seemed open and light, as if connected to that universal spirit of joy the ancient yogis called ananda —unending bliss.

  I luxuriated on the floor for several more minutes, daydreaming about Michael’s and my first night together. I closed my eyes and smiled, remembering his touch. The tingling sensation in my toes quickly moved up to my root chakra, if you know what I mean.

  This would never do. I shook my hands and feet, forcing myself back to reality. I arose from my mat and cooked a quick-but-delicious bowl of Scottish oatmeal heavily garnished with dates, raisins, almonds, and brown sugar. As Bella and I slurped down our breakfasts together, I planned the rest of my day.

  I looked at the clock. Sixty minutes until my first private client. How should I spend that time? I could spend it cleaning my fur-covered house. I could spend it finishing the studio’s bookkeeping. Or I could spend it contemplating nature’s finest artwork—Michael’s gorgeous face. My tingling netherpart chakras left me no choice.

  “C’mon, Miss Bella, we’re going for a visit.”

  I put on Bella’s collar, threw a few treats in my pocket, and set off for Pete’s Pets. Five days had passed since my first date with Michael, and we had yet to set up a second. Although we had traded several longing glances through our respective storefront windows, thus far the universe—in the form of ill-timed customers, mismatched schedules, and way too much dog walking—had conspired to keep us apart. Five traded voice mail messages later, it was time to take matters into my own hands.

  The parking lot was gloriously deserted. No stray dogs wandered about; no bearded men lurked in the shadows. I decided to take a risk and bring Bella into the pet store. The sign on the door said “Well Behaved Pets Welcome!” That certainly applied to us. Bella would be an angel. After all, she loved her Cookie Man!

  We walked up to the door to survey our territory. Damn. Tiffany sat behind the counter, looking bored. Michael was probably doing inventory in the back. Time for Plan B. I tried to take Bella back to the car. Tried, to no avail. She sniffed the air, smelling the enticing aroma of dog treats. She wanted those treats. She needed those treats. And to get them, she had to go into that fascinating room. She glued her butt to the ground and refused to move, no matter how hard I pulled.

  “OK, Bella, you win,” I said to the obstinate mule-dog. “But first we need to make sure there aren’t any other dogs inside.”

  I opened the door and glanced around the room. “Hey, Tiffany. Are there any dogs in there?”

  “What do you mean?” she replied in a bored tone.

  “I need to know for Bella here.” I said, pointing at the treat-seeking-missile pulling on my arm. “She doesn’t get along with other dogs. Are there any dogs in the store right now?”

  “No.” Tiffany sighed. She pulled a nail file out of her purse and started working on an imaginary hangnail.

  Evidently she wasn’t big on small talk.

  “OK, girl, let’s go in.” Bella’s eyes got twice their normal size. I could practically read her mind. This place was doggy heaven. She could smell treats—lots and lots of treats. They were right there, right on that counter. The woman sitting behind it was obviously the treat dispenser.

  Bella walked up to Tiffany, sat down, and stared. She gave Tiffany her most adorable look. She even offered her paw. Tiffany continued to gaze down at her nails, ignoring her. Bella leaned back, furrowed her brow, and let out a low, disappointed moan. The human treat dispenser was broken.

  “Bark!” said Bella.

  Tiffany gave no response.

  “Um, Tiffany, I think she wants you to give her a treat.”

  Tiffany looked at me drolly.

  Bella barked again.

  I reached into my pocket. “Here, I’ll even provide the treat. Would you please give it to her?”

  I handed Tiffany one of the cookies I’d thrown in my pocket for just such an emergency. With an air that the action was somehow beneath her, Tiffany handed the treat to Bella, then wiped her hands disgustedly on her pants.

  Bella didn’t look at all satisfied. And who could blame her? She had given Tiffany her most beguiling cute-dog behavior, and the response had been entirely inadequate. She let out a series of six sharp barks, clearly voicing her opinion of Tiffany’s poor customer service.

  Tiffany sighed as if Bella and I were both insane, then turned her back to us. Man, was she ever in the wrong profession.

  “Come on Bella. Let’s get some dog food.”

  We were three aisles back when Jake ambled in. I was in luck, or at least I thought so. Jake was here to flirt with Tiffany, not to harass me. If I was clever, I could forget about the dog food and sneak out unnoticed.
>
  Jake sauntered up to the desk. Tiffany flashed him a sexy smile, no longer seeming bored in the slightest. She leaned toward Jake and giggled, touching him in a manner a little too familiar for strangers in a pet store.

  “Hey, gorgeous. How’s that new water heater working out for you?” Jake eased around the counter, wearing a broad grin.

  I’m sure they were about to engage in scintillating conversation, but those were the only words Jake got out before Bella got a good look at him. One glance at that nasty goatee and she roared toward him in a flurry of teeth, fur, and noise the likes of which I’d never seen. I held on to Bella’s leash as tightly as I could, but to no avail. It was like trying to restrain a canine freight train.

  Bella dove through a stack of wet dog food, scattering cans in every direction. Distracted by the noise, she veered left and knocked over a display of sale-priced cat litter, ripping open several bags in the process. I slid on the pelletized pine and grabbed a shelf for balance, only to pull down a box of individually priced dog cookies. Broken cookies littered the ground in a six-foot radius. By the time I got Bella under control again, one thing was abundantly clear: Hurricane Bella had been a Category Five.

  Jake hid behind the desk and yelled, “Get your crazy dog out of here! Lord, I hate that thing!”

  “I told you, she’s not my dog!” I shouted back. But frankly, we’re not too fond of you, either.

  Michael rushed out to see what was causing all the commotion. One look at the mess and his face turned as red as Rene’s nail polish. Steam practically poured from his scalp.

  “Kate, what were you thinking? You know better than to bring Bella in here!” He turned to the desk where Jake still hid, crouching behind a chair. “I’m sorry, Jake. For some reason, this dog doesn’t like beards. This won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t,” Jake replied, still shielding himself with the chair. Evidently Tiffany would have to protect herself.