Murber Strikes a Pose

by Tracy Weber

  We all three stared at each other in silence.

  Finally, Rene spoke. “You know, even without blackmail, money may still be involved. We know George asked his daughter for money. What if he asked his ex-wife as well? Can you imagine how angry she would have been? If Sam ever deserted me, I wouldn’t even wait for him to ask for a handout. I’d kill him on the spot.”

  “Perhaps at the time, but several years later?”

  “Even then. Some wounds cut too deep.”

  I sighed in frustration. “To tell you the truth, Rene, I’d love to question George’s ex-wife, but I have no idea how to reach her. George told me she moved to Denver, but I don’t know when. She might not even live there anymore.” I shrugged. “Besides, I don’t know her name. George’s last name was Levin, but I doubt she kept it after the divorce.”

  “Think, Kate,” Rene said. “Did George tell you anything else about her?”

  I thought for a moment, but came up blank. “Other than that she divorced him and moved to Denver, nothing. George was a talker, but he didn’t share much about his family.” I flashed on the family picture in George’s gym bag. “I suppose thinking about them made him too sad.”

  In my mind, I turned the photo over and examined George’s careful handwriting. “Sarah, Maddie, and me—Cannon Beach, 1995.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know if this helps or not, but his wife might go by Maddie.”

  Michael perked up. “Of course that helps. That’s all we need!”

  Rene and I stared at him, bewildered.

  “Seriously. Haven’t you two ever heard of the Internet?”

  The three of us moved to my office, Bella trailing close behind. Rene and I huddled behind Michael as he tapped at the keyboard. “How do you spell George’s last name?”

  “L-e-v-i-n, but that won’t help. His wife has remarried.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It gives us a start.” He typed it in. “And you say she goes by Maddie?”

  I envisioned the picture again. “I think so, yes.”

  “Let’s hope we get lucky.” Michael stared at the screen. “OK. I see a few Levins here with the first initial M.” He ran the cursor down the screen as he continued reading. “Here’s a possibility: a Madeleine Levin who has lived in both Seattle and Denver.”

  Perhaps my trip to Woodland Park hadn’t been so worthless, after all. I pointed to the screen. “That must be her! What’s her phone number?”

  “Sorry, Kate, this site only lists names.”

  My heart sank. “How does that help us, then? I doubt her last name is Levin anymore.”

  “Maybe not,” Michael replied, “but the site lists all of her legal names. According to this, she’s used two last names: Levin and Yeates.”

  “Wouldn’t Yeates be her maiden name?”

  “I don’t think this database goes back that far. I’m not positive, of course, but chances are good that Yeates is her new last name.” He clicked the mouse and leaned back in his chair. “Do you want me to order a full background check?”

  I wavered, suddenly feeling unclean. I’d been furious with my father for checking up on Jason—livid even. And like me, Dad had the best of intentions. I flashed on an image of my mug shot with the word “HYPOCRITE” stamped diagonally across it in bold red letters.

  “I don’t know. Ordering a background check seems pretty invasive.”

  “Well, if all you want is a phone number, we can try something else first.” Michael typed some more, then tapped the screen with his fingertip, smiling. “We might be in luck. There are only seven listings with the last name of Yeates in Denver. None of them may be her, but we can at least try.” He cracked his knuckles. “Shall we get started?”

  I looked at the clock. Almost nine o’clock. I was exhausted, and I still had one very important conversation ahead of me. “Not yet. I need to come up with a cover story. We’ve done enough for tonight.” While Michael printed out the list of phone numbers, I handed Rene her coat. “Weren’t you just leaving?”

  “How’s that for gratitude?” Rene took her jacket and walked to the front door—alone. Michael and I stood frozen in place. “Don’t worry,” she quipped. “I’ll see myself out. But you two had better make up, or you’ll have me to contend with.” She paused, then ran back, gave me a hug, and whispered, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

  I hoped she was right.

  Michael and I sat on opposite ends of the couch again, oddly uncomfortable now that Rene was gone.

  “So,” I began.

  “So,” he replied.

  More silence. Michael stuck by his final phone message. Throwing out the first olive branch would be up to me. I hugged a throw pillow to my chest, as if holding it could somehow make me less vulnerable.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I know I overreacted. Truth is, I’ve never been very good at taking orders. That’s not a good excuse, but it’s an honest one. I know we can’t pretend the last two weeks didn’t happen, but can we at least give our relationship another try?”

  Michael’s face turned serious. “To be honest, I don’t blame you for getting angry. I was out of line. But I do blame you for not returning my calls. I tried to apologize for days, and you ignored me. You acted like I was disposable. That was beyond anger, Kate. It was selfish and insensitive.”

  His words hit me like a punch in the gut, even more painful because they were true.

  “We’ll have fights,” Michael continued. “Every couple fights. But if you’re going to cut and run every time we disagree, we don’t stand a chance.”

  For once, I didn’t argue. I stared down at my hands, trying to scrape together the courage to reply. My words, when I found them, sounded inadequate. “I don’t even know what to say, Michael. You’re right. I behaved terribly.” I looked up to meet his eyes. “I had reasons, but they weren’t very good ones, and I’m not sure they even matter anymore. But I will say this: You are not disposable, and I won’t shut you out again. I’m a slow learner, but I promise you, I do learn.”

  Michael looked skeptical, so I pulled out my secret weapon. “Besides, look at Bella. Don’t we owe it to her to try again?” Bella sat between us, obviously concerned about the rift in her pack. She closely monitored our conversation, peering left and right, as if watching a tennis ball in the championship match at Wimbledon.

  Michael burst out laughing. “Come here, girl.” Bella broke her stare and moved next to him. He leaned down and affectionately scratched her throat. “So you think I should give this spitfire another chance, do you?”

  Bella remained silent, but her eyes clearly said yes. Michael looked up and grinned. “How can anyone say no to a creature this beautiful?”

  “Do you mean me or the dog?”

  “On that, my love, I plead the fifth.” Michael ducked just in time. My pillow barely missed his head. They don’t call them “throw pillows” for nothing. “Yes, I’d like to try again,” he said. “You know I would.”

  Michael stood, melting me with those smoldering blue-green eyes. I closed my eyes and waited, fully expecting him to close the distance between us, draw me into his arms, and start the “oh so fun” make-up process Alicia had promised.

  The sound of rustling fabric and an opening zipper caught my attention—from across the room. I opened my eyes again, confused. Michael stood near the door, holding his jacket. Was he leaving? Admittedly, Alicia hadn’t been specific. But somehow I didn’t think waving goodbye was the fun between lovers she’d had in mind.

  He pulled a thick white envelope from his pocket. “I have something for you.”

  The envelope was full of cash. Fives, tens, twenties, even a couple of fifties.

  “What’s this?”

  “If you’d come by the store in the last two weeks you’d know. We started a collection for Bella. My customers were really moved by her story—especia
lly how you basically paid ransom to keep her away from that abusive jerk. There’s over $850 in there. I know it doesn’t cover everything you’ve spent so far, but it’s a start.”

  I didn’t want to cry, but I felt a lump in my throat all the same. “You did this for me, even though I refused to speak with you?”

  “For you and for Bella.”

  “Why?”

  “In spite of your recent experiences, dog owners are usually pretty decent people. So are pet store owners. So, I have heard, are yoga teachers.” He paused a beat. “But the jury’s still out on that one.” He smiled.

  I smiled back. I didn’t feel like crying anymore. I crooked my finger, beckoning him closer. “Come here, boy. You’ve been very good. And you deserve a treat.”

  Bella sighed as I stood and wrapped my arms around Michael’s neck. All three of us knew she’d be sleeping on the floor again that night.

  twenty-seven

  “I’ve missed our sessions,” Alicia said as we walked into the studio the next morning. She looked good—better than she’d looked in a long time. Rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, animated step. Something definitely agreed with her.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Alicia. I have to say, though, you look great!”

  “I’m done with this round of chemo, and I’m starting to feel like myself again—for now, anyway.” She rolled out her mat and sat on the floor. “I’m scheduled for another set of scans next week, but hopefully the new protocol worked and I’ll be in remission.” She knocked on the hardwood floor. “Until then, I’m footloose and fancy-free.”

  I smiled and sat next to her.

  “But how are you doing, Miss Kate? I’ve been worried about you. You were so upset at our last appointment—then you disappeared.”

  I’d canceled our appointments during my two-week funk. At the time, I couldn’t face Alicia’s inevitable questions about Michael, but now I owed her an explanation. A two-week break might not have been long with an ordinary client, but in Alicia’s circumstances, every day was precious.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’ve been having some personal issues lately, and I wasn’t much good to anyone, including myself. But canceling that way was selfish. I won’t do it again.”

  Alicia smiled. “Well, you’re certainly allowed to take a day off every now and again. But honestly, Jake and I were getting worried. We both thought you were too caught up in that murder investigation. I’m so glad you’ve dropped that now.”

  I didn’t contradict her. Instead, I asked her to close her eyes and settle into her practice.

  “Notice where your body touches the earth, and imagine that you are rooted through that connection. As you inhale, expand your ribs and extend the crown of your head toward the sky. As you exhale—”

  Alicia’s eyes popped open.

  “Hey, whatever happened with your boyfriend?”

  I laughed at the sudden change of topic. If nothing else, my sessions with Alicia were consistently unpredictable.

  “We’re doing much better now, thanks. You were right, by the way. Michael and I kissed and made up.” I felt myself blush. “I’m kind of embarrassed, though. I never thought some silly argument —with a boy of all things—could affect me so much.”

  Alicia grinned. “I know what you mean. Jake and I have certainly had our share of fights. We even considered separating for a while. But luckily, those days are long behind us.” She looked away for a moment, idly playing with her wedding ring. When she looked back, her eyes held back tears. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do without Jake. He’s been so wonderful since I got sick. This may sound odd, but in a way my illness has been a gift. Learning that I might die was a real wake-up call for Jake. He’s kinder now, more considerate. More willing to work on our relationship.”

  That didn’t sound like the Jake I knew. Perhaps I had misjudged him.

  Alicia continued, “Our marriage vows said ‘for better or worse.’ Poor Jake definitely got the worse.” Her expression turned wistful. “I just wish he could spend more time at home. I hardly ever see him anymore.”

  I wondered how much time Jake spent flirting with his female tenants, but I kept that thought to myself.

  Alicia playfully shook her finger at me. “As for you, young lady, it’s about time you got your priorities in order. Relationships are important. Playing amateur detective is not. I’m so glad you took my advice and gave up trying to solve that murder.”

  I didn’t want to quarrel, but I couldn’t continue deceiving her. “I haven’t given up, Alicia. If anything, I’m reinvigorated.”

  Alicia’s expression turned uncharacteristically cross. “Oh, Kate, whatever are you thinking? You’re normally so level-headed. This nonsense is completely unlike you!”

  “But I know I’m on to something! I have to be close. Someone even left me a threatening note!” I raised my voice, as if speaking louder would make my words more compelling. “And you know me; I’m stubborn as a mule. Once I get my mind set on something, I don’t give up until it’s done.”

  Alicia’s cheeks changed from light pink to red—blood red. She stood up from her mat and clenched her jaw. “Kate, let me be frank,” she said, sternly crossing her arms. “You’re acting like a fool.”

  I winced, but gave no other reply. I just stared up at her, stunned. In the two years I’d known Alicia, I’d never seen her get angry. At least not until today.

  Time seemed to stand still as Alicia towered over me, right eyelid twitching involuntarily. I leaned back and braced myself, waiting for her to explode.

  Finally, she blinked, as if coming out of a trance. The color left her cheeks as rapidly as it had come. “I’m so sorry,” she said, softening her tone. “But I’m really worried about you.” She kneeled next to me and pleaded. “Please, please let this go. It won’t end well; it can’t end well. At best, you’re wrong, and you’re wasting time and energy you can’t afford. At worst, you’re right. Then you might get hurt, or worse. And for what? No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you won’t bring your friend back.”

  Her reaction surprised me. The Alicia I knew had never walked away from a challenge. But then again, who was I to judge? Each day she fought a battle more terrifying than anything I’d faced in my entire life. Maybe solving the riddle of another man’s death seemed inconsequential when you were trying so desperately to prevent your own. Maybe in the process of dying, she had learned some lesson on life balance I had yet to understand.

  Then again, maybe she was pissed at me for canceling her last two appointments.

  In that moment, I understood my mistake. I had blurred the student-teacher boundary with Alicia yet again. Our time together was supposed to be about her, not me.

  “I’m sorry, Alicia. You’re probably right. And in any case, we’re not here to talk about me.” I looked at my watch. “Let’s start your practice. Do you want to work more strongly today?”

  Alicia didn’t want to change the subject, but she acquiesced. When we finished our gentle flow sequence, her breath sounded strong, vital, and deep. She finished sitting upright, to maintain the energy she’d worked so hard to build.

  I rang the chimes, indicating it was time to come out of meditation. She sighed, smiled, and opened her eyes. But instead of finishing with our normal “Namaste,” she placed her hand on my arm. “Kate, I’m sorry for being so short with you earlier. I don’t know what came over me. I am concerned about you, but that’s no reason to get angry. I must be more worried about those scans next week than I thought.”

  I smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You may well be right.”

  “So you’ll drop the case?”

  I didn’t answer right away. Lying to her would be wrong, but refueling her irritation would be worse. In the end, I compromised. “I’ll think about it, I promise.”

  I didn’t break that promise, I swea
r. I took a full thirty seconds to carefully consider Alicia’s advice.

  Then I chose to completely ignore it.

  twenty-eight

  I closed the door behind Alicia, double-checked the lock, then moved to the desk to review my notes and gather my wits.

  Whose crazy idea was this, anyway?

  Playing the role of “Kate, the yoga teacher” was hard enough. Pretending to be someone else seemed virtually impossible. If I thought about my planned deception too much, I’d freeze with stage fright. So I didn’t give myself time to think. I wiped my sweat-drenched palms on my pants, picked up the phone, and started dialing. The first two calls went to voice mail. The third was a wrong number; the fourth, disconnected. On the fifth, I got lucky.

  “Hello, may I speak to Madeleine Yeates?”

  “Who am I speaking with?” Her voice sounded slightly irritated, like someone about to hang up on a telemarketer.

  I smiled and hoped my voice was engaging. “My name’s Jessica Oppenheimer. But don’t worry, I’m not trying to sell you anything. I’m a writer for Seattle Life Magazine.”

  “I’m Madeleine. What can I do for you?” She still sounded suspicious.

  “Are you the Madeleine Yeates that was married to George Levin?”

  “Yes, but we divorced years ago. What’s that got to do with a magazine?”

  My pretend smile morphed into a huge, excited grin. I’d found her! I held back a one-sided high five and forced my voice to stay calm.

  “I’m writing a human interest story on the ups and downs of the Seattle high-tech industry. Sort of a ‘rags to riches, riches to rags’ piece. I’m particularly interested in telling Mr. Levin’s story, since it ended so tragically.” I lowered my voice and whispered, as if telling a secret. “Are you aware that he was recently killed?”

  “Yes,” she said warily, “but I’m not sure I want to talk about that, especially with a reporter. This has been a very hard time for my family.”