A Killer Retreat

by Tracy Weber

  I smiled and tried to look confident. “Well then, Sam will, too.” I hoped I was right.

  Rene stood up and brushed off her pants. “I don’t think so, Kate. I know Sam loves me. Lord knows, he puts up with enough of my crap. But when we decided to get married, he made one condition clear. No kids. No way. No exceptions.” She teared up again. “He might even leave me.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I stalled with a question.

  “What did the doctor say? Does the baby seem healthy so far?”

  “I haven’t gone to a doctor yet. I made an appointment a few days ago. I even drove to the doctor’s office, but I chickened out. I keep hoping I’m wrong.”

  I held up my hands. “Whooooooa. Hold on there a minute, Kemosabe. You haven’t even gone to the doctor? You’re probably not even pregnant. You wouldn’t be the first woman to miss a period, you know.”

  “But my breasts hurt, and I’m nauseated all the time.”

  I teased her, hoping to lighten the mood. “You know they sell these things called pregnancy tests.”

  “I know that,” Rene snapped. “I’m not twelve. I took one. But they’re not always accurate.”

  “Why don’t you repeat it?”

  “I did. Four times.”

  I already knew the answer, but I had to ask. “And?”

  “I’m pregnant.” Rene wailed. “How in this world did this happen?”

  I didn’t say anything, but I had a pretty good idea.

  “And the whole thing gets worse and worse,” she continued.

  “How’s that?”

  “I’ve been looking on the Internet. All the sites say pregnant women shouldn’t do Hot Yoga. The heat’s bad for the baby.”

  “So?”

  “My ass is going to get huge.”

  I smiled. Finally. A glimpse of my friend underneath all of that drama. “Honey, I’ve got news for you. You’re pregnant. Your butt won’t be the only thing growing.”

  Rene punched me in the arm—hard.

  “Ouch! That hurt!”

  “I hate you.” Rene smiled for the first time in days.

  I wrapped her in my arms and hugged her fiercely. “I hate you, too, honey.” We rocked back and forth, sobbing like fools. “Everything’s going to turn out fine, I promise. You’re going to be a great mother, and I’ll be the world’s best auntie.”

  Rene pulled back. “Kate, I need a huge favor.”

  “Anything. Name it.” My mind spun through the possibilities. I wasn’t ready to share “I dos” and have babies with Michael, but committing to Rene was a different matter entirely. She was family. If she and Sam split, Rene could move in with me. I’d give her my office and move the computer to the kitchen. I wasn’t keen on the whole diaper changing business, but I’d be willing to take the 3:00 a.m. feedings.

  And of course I’d be Rene’s labor coach. I’d sign up for doula training tomorrow and look into Lamaze classes next week. Rene had always been there for me. I would do anything for her.

  “I need you to tell Sam about the baby.”

  Except that.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Please, Kate? I know I can’t keep this from him much longer, but I can’t face him, either.”

  I stepped back and crossed my arms. “No way, Rene. Not on your life. You have to tell Sam, and you have to do it soon. He’s beside himself. He thinks you’re having an affair.”

  Rene’s expression changed from heartbreaking angst to aneurism-blowing anger in two seconds flat. Her face turned so red it was practically purple. Her skin seemed to throb. I was surprised her scalp didn’t ignite.

  “An affair! That lame-brained idiot thinks I’m having an affair? Cheating on him like some two-timing tramp?” Bella, the fearless guard dog, bolted away from the impending explosion and cowered behind me. “I’d never betray Sam!”

  “Tone it down, Rene. You’re scaring the dog.”

  Rene stopped shouting, but her perfectly plucked eyebrows still twitched with annoyance.

  “Besides,” I continued, “you’re wrong. You may not be sleeping around, but you’re still betraying Sam. He’s not stupid. He knows you’ve been hiding something, and it’s killing him.”

  Rene’s shoulders sagged. “He said that?”

  “Not in those exact words, but yes. Whatever you decide about this pregnancy, Sam needs to know about it, and soon. He should have known before me.”

  Rene stared off into the distance for several—pardon the pun—pregnant moments. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “You’re right. Now’s not the time to be selfish. I’ll tell Sam. I just need to figure out how.”

  “OK sweetie, but don’t take too long.”

  “I won’t. And Kate, don’t tell Michael. Not until Sam knows.”

  Agreeing wasn’t difficult, at least not in that moment. Michael probably wasn’t speaking to me anyway. I pulled a tissue out of my pocket. “Now wipe that mascara off your face, or you’ll really freak out Sam.”

  The three of us walked quietly for about ten more minutes. As we moved deeper into the forest, Rene’s energy shifted. Her step became lighter. The color returned to her cheeks.

  Bella sniffed the ground and munched on tall blades of grass. Rene rooted around in her jacket and pulled out a bar of organic dark chocolate. She broke off large pieces and shoveled them into her mouth.

  “Looks like you got your appetite back.”

  “You know, I did. I feel a lot better. I’m not even nauseated anymore.” She licked the last crumbs of candy off the wrapper, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it back into her pocket. “Keeping the pregnancy a secret must have been bothering me more than I realized. I think it was literally eating a hole in my stomach. Talking to you totally helped.”

  We walked several more steps before Rene spoke again. “You’re such a good friend.”

  ESP-like suspicion tingled the base of my skull. She was up to something.

  “And?”

  Rene stopped walking and looked at me through wide, child-like eyes. “And I need one more favor.”

  I took a step back and frowned at her suspiciously. “What kind of favor?”

  “I need a distraction—something to keep me from freaking out until I tell Sam.”

  Rene flashed me an affected smile. It exposed sharp, pointy, chocolate-covered teeth. An evil spark flashed through her not-at-all-innocent eyes.

  Ah, crap.

  I’d obviously made some kind of fatal mistake. Perhaps I shouldn’t have chastised Rene for hiding her pregnancy from Sam. Perhaps I should have promised her that her butt would stay small. Perhaps I should have avoided the whole conversation, turned tail, and run. Regardless, it was too late. Rene’s inner devil had returned.

  And it was eyeballing me.

  I tried to back away, but a traitorous aspen tree blocked my escape. “What kind of distraction?”

  “A puzzle. Something to keep my mind off my problems.” She leaned forward and whispered. “You know, like a murder investigation.” Rene crowded in close. I could have sworn that she flicked a pointed red tail. “You might be able to fool the boys, but you’ll never fool me. I know why you were so late this morning. You’re working the case.”

  “What if I am?”

  “Then I’ll help you, like I did last time.”

  I pushed away from her, waving my hands in the air. “Uh uh, Rene. No way.” I’d learned my lesson about teaming up with Rene. The last time we had sleuthed together, she’d promised to go out with one of the witnesses. When she stood him up, he retaliated. Against me. He printed my photograph on the front page of the local newspaper, complete with a caption that referred to me only as a “mentally ill woman.”

  “Come on,” she implored. “It will be so much fun! We’ll be like female Hardy Boys.” Her face brig
htened. “We’ll be the Hardy Girls!”

  Hardy Girls indeed. I’d be Laurel; she’d be Hardy.

  She bounced up and down like a golden retriever begging for someone to throw her a bright yellow tennis ball. “Please, Kate, please? It will distract me until I figure out how to tell Sam.”

  “Rene, I don’t think—”

  “Come on, you owe me that much.”

  I frowned. Why did I always let her talk me into things like this?

  Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I’d never put an expecting woman in danger, but surely I could find some safe way to keep her occupied. Having a sounding board that wasn’t also a suspect certainly couldn’t hurt.

  “OK, Rene. Fine. You can help.”

  “Awesome. Where do we start?”

  _____

  Rene and I meandered along the trail for another half hour while I filled her in on my plans.

  “Remember, keep all of this between us for now. The less Michael knows, the better. He’ll just get pi—”

  A hundred-pound anchor jerked me to a stop. “Bella, knock it off! You’re going to dislocate my shoulder!”

  Rene looked concerned, but not about me. “Is she eating grass again?”

  It was the third patch of grass Bella had inhaled in the past fifteen minutes.

  “Yes, and that’s not normal for her. I don’t think she feels well.”

  Bella snacked on grass all the time, but not like this. Grass hunting for Bella was a delicate, painstaking task. She searched through each clump like a master chef culling through produce, abandoning all but the youngest, most tender of blades. Today she acted more a lawnmower, shredding all plant life in sight.

  I knelt down beside her. “Are you feeling OK, sweetie?” A low, gurgling noise rumbled from deep in her belly. Drool dripped from her lower lip, leaving dark mud splotches in the dirt.

  Bella’s wilted ears were trying to tell me something—something my subconscious mind knew I’d forgotten. But no matter how deeply I searched, my conscious mind refused to remember. I told myself not to worry; that everyone got an upset stomach now and then, especially scavenger-dogs like Bella. Bella’s digestive system was fragile; it wouldn’t take much to knock it off balance. Maybe the answer was simple. Maybe I’d given her too many treats. Maybe her belly reacted to my own internal stress. Maybe if I stopped worrying, we’d both feel better.

  Bella stopped grazing to take care of her morning business.

  Rene frowned in disgust. “That can’t be good.”

  She was right.

  One look at Bella’s output, and I knew she was in trouble. Flare-ups of Bella’s digestive disease weren’t uncommon, and when they happened, the symptoms were obvious. Without going into the disgusting details, let’s just say that the proof of an EPI setback was in the pudding. Bella’s was of the butterscotch variety.

  I looked at Rene, panicked. “Her autoimmune disease is flaring up.”

  After six months of experience, I knew more about Bella’s rare disease than most veterinarians. EPI exacerbations were often hard to get under control. There were too many potential causes. Sometimes they were due to a vitamin B12 deficiency, sometimes to emerging food sensitivities. Sometimes the dog developed an infection that could be cured, but only with thirty-day course of special antibiotics.

  I doubted that either of the two veterinarians on Orcas had ever heard of Bella’s disease, much less knew how to treat it. Dogs with EPI could easily lose ten pounds or more in a week. What if Bella lost all of her hard-earned weight? What if she started starving to death again?

  “Bella needs to see her vet. The police won’t let me leave the island, so Michael will have to take her back to Seattle.”

  Rene looked concerned. “Will she be OK?”

  “I think so, but I don’t want to risk it.”

  I pulled out several extra-large dog waste bags. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with her. She was fine back home. This is as bad as when I adopted her. It’s almost like she’s not getting her medicine …”

  My stomach dropped to my toes.

  Oh no.

  I couldn’t possibly have been that stupid, could I? Was I as addle-brained as Emmy’s mother, leaving essential prescriptions at home on the kitchen counter? I tossed the bags to Rene and yelled, “Clean this up and meet me at the cabin. I have to go. Now!”

  I sprinted back to the cabin as fast as my stubby legs would go, dragging a bewildered Bella behind me. I crashed into the cabin, ignored Michael’s and Sam’s confused looks, and frantically pawed through the refrigerator. Bella huddled close behind me.

  I started on the top shelf, where I found three bottles of wine, a plate of fossilized cinnamon rolls, and two jars of eye cream. I’d ask Rene about those later.

  The second shelf held two six packs of Guinness, several containers of leftover Chinese food, and an empty carton of orange juice. Michael’s handiwork, I assumed. I pulled it out to toss in the trash.

  Oh thank God.

  Bella’s bottle of enzymes sat safe and secure, pushed to the back of the shelf. Get a grip, Kate. I picked up the bottle and held it against my chest. Of course you didn’t forget Bella’s medicine. You checked that cooler at least a thousand times. I rubbed my thumb over the top of the bottle. Only a truly negligent dog owner would forget—

  Wait a minute …

  Why was the bottle still taped shut?

  My conscious and unconscious minds finally connected. No wonder the consistency of Bella’s food had been off. I’d remembered to bring Bella’s medicine, all right, but I’d forgotten to add it to her food. My obsessive-compulsive organization had been my undoing. The piles of medicines I’d added to the containers at home had fooled me.

  Part of me wanted to laugh. Bella would be fine. A bigger part of me felt like crying. She wasn’t fine now, and it was all my fault. She’d be sick for at least twenty-four hours, maybe longer, until the unmedicated food made its way out of her system.

  I sank down to the floor and hugged Bella in close. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s going to be a very long night.”

  fourteen

  “Don’t look so worried. I promise, Kate, everything’s going to be fine.”

  Easy for Michael to say. I was the one about to die.

  If I was lucky.

  Two hours after I discovered the sealed bottle of enzymes, I trudged, not toward the death chamber, but to a place much worse: my own private hellhole of mortal embarrassment. I’d avoided accompanying Michael to the Elysian Springs spa for two days, but frankly, I’d run out of excuses.

  The private yoga class with Emmy’s family wasn’t scheduled until eleven the next morning, and my next public class was still four hours away. Michael had been a complete sweetheart the entire trip, in spite of my erratic behavior. Once I came back from Bella’s three hundredth bathroom break, even I had to admit: I owed him some couples’ time.

  So I agreed to go to the reopened hot tubs.

  It seemed like a good idea at the time.

  The thought of hanging out in the buff—in public no less—made the roots of my hair turn purple, but it was safer than going anywhere else. Surely Michael wouldn’t discuss our future in a gurgling bathtub full of naked strangers.

  Would he?

  I pulled Rene aside before leaving. “Talk to Sam while we’re gone. That’s an order.”

  She smiled insincerely and wiggled her fingers goodbye as she ushered Michael and me out the door. “Have a good time, you two.” I had a feeling discussing babies-to-be wouldn’t be on her agenda anytime soon.

  I tried to postpone the inevitable by walking as slowly as possible, but we still ended up at the spa long before I was ready. I paused at the entrance and took a deep breath. Ganesh seemed to warn me away from the stairwell. I told myself that I was nervous about being nude in public, but
that wasn’t the real issue. Flashing my pasty-white bottom at strangers was the least of my worries. I was afraid of Technicolor flashes of memory. Freeze-frame images of floating blonde hair, rhinestone-studded dog leashes, and purple-blue lips. Coming back to this place so soon after Monica’s death had obviously been a very bad idea.

  I tried to distract myself by examining my surroundings, but I couldn’t find a single place that was safe to look. People were everywhere. Naked people. They padded between hot tubs and rinsed off in showers. They sat on top of the very same towels they used to dry between their toes. A few of them leaned over the balcony, simultaneously enjoying the view and providing one of their own.

  Michael slipped off his sandals and unbuttoned his shirt. I grimaced and hugged a folded towel to my chest. He pointed to an empty-looking building. “There’s a changing room over there if you want. Most people get undressed here.”

  I would rather have died.

  I undressed in the women’s changing area and stalled for time by neatly folding and refolding my clothes. After the fourth permutation, I covered every inch of my skin from my throat to my knees in a bath sheet and hesitantly walked out onto the deck. A friendly-looking woman gestured with her eyes toward my white-knuckled grip. “This must be your first time.”

  You think?

  I tried to find Michael, but no matter where my eyes pointed, they landed on something taboo. Hairy shoulders, suspicious-looking moles, strange scars, private body piercings. One ancient woman sported a multicolored chakra tattoo that started at her throat and extended down to her root—chakra, that is.

  I found Michael submerged in the second tub, looking completely relaxed and chatting with several newfound friends. Maybe hanging out naked with strangers was easier once you got in the water. I knelt at the edge of the tub—towel still securely in place—and ran my fingers through the hot water.

  Michael shifted to make space beside him. “Come on in. The water’s great.”

  I stood up and placed my hands on the ladder. I even started to undo my towel. But I couldn’t go any further. Intellectually, I knew the pool was nothing more than a man-made container of gurgling, chemically treated water, but that’s not how I saw it. To me, it looked like a boiling, rectangular cauldron, waiting to swallow its next female body.