by Tracy Weber
“I’m sorry, Kate. I’m sure that seemed impolite.” Her voice sounded more frustrated than apologetic. “If you hadn’t arrived over fifteen minutes late, I would have told you before class. Emmy forced me to host this silly gathering, but I will not allow you to interrogate my friends and family. If you want to question someone, it will have to be me.” She looked pointedly at her watch. “You have five minutes.”
“Emmy told you?” That probably wasn’t the most relevant question to start with, but it was the one that flew out of my mouth. How was I supposed to catch Monica’s killer if Emmy forewarned all the suspects?
“Yes, she filled me in on your cockamamie scheme this morning.”
I felt my face grow hot.
“Oh, don’t look so upset,” Helen chided. “She didn’t tell everyone, just me.” She paused. “And that chef.” She looked off to the side, as if thinking. “And I’m sure she told Josh, but that’s probably it.”
In other words, Emmy likely told everyone.
I sighed. “How about you? Did you tell anyone?”
Helen wrinkled her lips in irritation. “Certainly not. This whole murder business is sordid enough. I made Emmy promise not to say anything to her father, either. He’s already useless. The last thing we need is to get him more worked up.”
“Well, you can’t blame him for being upset. His wife is dead, after all.”
Helen cringed, then visibly deflated. “You’re right. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” She gestured toward a sofa pressed against the wall. “Please sit for a minute.” I sat on the cushion next to her. “Talking about Monica always brings out the worst in me. But honestly, couldn’t she at least manage to die without screwing me over?”
Now I was the one who cringed.
“That sounds terrible, I know.” Helen stared at her hands and worried a thumb nail with her index finger. “I suppose I should feel bad that Monica was murdered, but I don’t. Frankly, I’m relieved that she’s finally gone.”
Relieved enough to make her disappear permanently?
She looked up again. “You’d think after almost two years, I’d be over it.”
I wasn’t sure how long she’d keep talking, but I planned to take advantage of every second. “You and Bruce divorced two years ago?”
“Yes, though he started sleeping with that floozy almost a year before that. At first I ignored it. I assumed it was some sort of midlife crisis—that he’d eventually come back to his senses.” She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “But he didn’t. He fell in love with her.”
“Did your marriage have troubles before?”
“Yes, but nothing serious. Certainly not an affair. After twenty-five years together, Bruce and I may not have been crazy in love anymore, but we did love each other, and we would have done anything for Emmy. But once she moved out on her own …” Her voice trailed off.
I filled in the blanks. “He started seeing Monica.”
She grunted. “It was such a cliché. A blonde over twenty years younger than him and his receptionist to boot. I was a laughingstock.” She shook her head. “And now she went and got murdered. People will never stop talking.”
“Sounds like you really resented her.”
Helen’s eyebrows lifted. Hard lines creased her mouth. “You met Monica. Can you blame me?”
“Ever feel like strangling her?”
Helen sighed. “Honestly, the only person I feel like strangling is Emmy, for involving you in this foolish scheme.” She placed her hands on her thighs and stood up. “If you think someone here for the wedding killed Monica, you’re crazy. If I had the guts, I’d have strangled the tramp two years ago, before she ruined my family. It’s too late now.” She shrugged. “Why would anyone else care?”
“What about Bruce?”
“Are you kidding? That poor schmuck loved her. She made his life a living hell, but he can’t stand being without her, either. He’s completely fallen apart since her death.”
I didn’t want say it, but I had to. “How about Emmy, then? I understand she and Josh are having financial difficulties. Monica could have made it difficult for Bruce to give her money.”
Helen laughed. “Emmy? That girl can’t even hurt a fish. It broke her heart to buy that salmon for Monica. She told me she cried for days. All of this vegetarian nonsense is beyond me, but it proves that Emmy’s not capable of hurting anyone.” She picked up her jacket and keys. “It had to be some crazed local. Half of these people are barely better than glorified hermits.”
She rechecked her watch. “Your five minutes are up.”
“Just a few more questions, Helen, please.”
She hesitated, but sat down again. “Make it quick. I still need to change clothes.”
“Emmy told me that you lost some medicine.”
“I didn’t lose those prescriptions, they were stolen.” Her tone grew irritated. “And I know who took them, too.”
“Who?” I scooted to the edge of the couch, fully expecting to hear the name Bruce.
“That grumpy blonde maid, that’s who.”
Maidzilla?
“I noticed her snooping through my belongings a few days ago. I told Emmy about it, but she’s blind when it comes to her staff. She claims the little blonde grump was simply straightening up.” Helen grumbled under her breath. “I suppose she needed to vacuum my pants pockets, too.”
That couldn’t be right. “Did you actually see the maid steal your prescriptions?”
Helen hesitated. “Well, no, but it has to be her. I caught her again this morning, trying to snag a bottle of wine from the kitchen. Who else would it be?”
“This might sound crazy, so bear with me. Could it be Bruce?” I told her about my fall, Bruce’s late night visit to the cabin, and what I’d seen written on the prescription vial.
Helen dismissed the idea with a flip of her hand. “Don’t be daft. Bruce wouldn’t steal drugs. Besides, I don’t think I brought any Vicodin. I haven’t used pain medication in years. You must have misread the bottle.”
I supposed it was possible …
“And even if the prescription was mine, Bruce didn’t steal it. He and I lived together for twenty-five years. Lord knows how many of each other’s possessions we still have.”
I couldn’t imagine why Bruce would have carted a likely expired vial of his ex-wife’s pain medication across the country, but I didn’t have a better explanation, either.
“Now stop snooping around in my family’s affairs and mind your own business. I have a luncheon to attend.” Helen looked at her watch, jumped up and brushed off her slacks. “Oh, for goodness sake. And now you’ve made me too late to change.” She took my arm and led me to the exit.
I stopped at the doorway. “Why don’t you go on ahead? I still need to return the yoga equipment, and I don’t want to make you any later than I already have.” I flashed what I hoped was a sincere-looking smile.
Helen wasn’t fooled. “Nice try. But if you want to snoop through my belongings, you’ll have to come up with a better excuse than that.” She grinned sardonically. “Maybe Emmy will hire you as a maid.” She ushered me through the door. “I’ll take everything back later.”
As she placed the key in the lock, I played my one final card. “One more thing, Helen.”
“I told you, I’m in a hurry. What now?”
“I overheard you and Toni on the upper trails yesterday.”
Helen stood completely motionless for several seconds. Then she slowly, deliberately removed the key and placed it in her pocket. When she turned to face me, her eyes glittered like frozen glass. “I don’t know what you think you overheard, but you’d better be very careful what you say and who you say it to.” I felt, more than saw, a force field surround her. “That part of my life is no one’s business but my own.”
In
spite of her armor—perhaps even because of it—my heart broke for her. Helen was trapped in a lie, too terrified to confront the truth.
She knew it.
I knew it.
The question was, did Monica?
I spoke in a soft voice, as if coaxing a frightened animal. “Helen, did Monica know about you and Toni?”
Helen bit her lower lip, but that didn’t keep it from trembling. “Kate, let this go. Toni and I have nothing to do with Monica’s death. Nothing at all. Please get on a ferry and go back to Seattle before you ruin everything.”
She ran toward the parking lot before I could ask her any more questions.
twenty
Thirty minutes and six hundred milligrams of Advil later, the pounding in my head receded to a dull, aching throb. The pain in my neck, however, was more annoying than ever.
Her name was Rene.
She harassed me incessantly as we trudged toward Bruce’s cabin. “You owe me, Miss Kate. And, believe me. You. Will. Pay.” She punctuated each word with a thrust of her index finger. “Consider yourself lucky that they ended the hike two hours early.”
She stopped and cocked her head to the side. “At least that’s what they claimed. A few minutes after they dropped me off at the office, I saw that guide lead everyone else back to the trailhead.” She shrugged. “No matter. I was all natured out, anyway.”
She wagged her finger back and forth. “But that doesn’t save your sorry butt, Missy Girl. No way. I’ll get my revenge. When you least expect it …”
Rene’s shrill chatter reverberated through my skull, bouncing back and forth like a lead-lined ping pong ball. I tried to focus my mind by mentally chanting the first chapter of The Yoga Sutras. When that didn’t work, I tried a mental rendition of Katy Perry’s greatest hits. That didn’t help either. No matter what tune I played in my head, Rene’s lips kept moving.
“Who ever heard of a female trail guide, anyway? All Dora the Explorer would talk about were birds, insects, and rotting tree stumps.” She rolled her eyes. “Then everyone got all caught up in some debate about whether the dowatchamacallits we saw were short-billed or long-billed.”
That caught my attention. “You saw some dowitchers? They’re rare. How cool!”
Rene scowled. “Oh for goodness sake, Kate. Not you too.”
She stomped several feet ahead, then turned around and recommenced complaining. “Even worse, Miss Bird-on-the-Brain absolutely refused to share any good gossip with me. And those grumpy little old biddies from the Audubon Society kept shushing me whenever I tried to change the subject. I didn’t have any fun at all.” She pointed to her mud-ruined shoes. “I fully expect you to buy me a new pair of boots. I might even replace these UGGs with some Louis Vuittons. That will teach you to send me off on a fool’s errand.”
I sighed and kept trudging forward. Hoping—praying even—for the universe to strike me deaf.
“I didn’t even get in any decent exercise. Every three minutes they wanted to stop and look at some stupid bird’s nest and—”
“I know, Rene, I know. You’ve told me a dozen times already. There weren’t any men to manipulate, you didn’t have fun, and I owe you a new pair of shoes. Now would you please be quiet for five minutes and let me think?”
Rene flinched. “Good lord, Kate. You’re as bad as those old bird biddies.” She nudged the grass with her toe. “I was trying to help, you know.”
I felt bad for snapping at her. I felt even worse when I saw the injured look on her face. But at least she stopped talking.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved Rene. That was the problem. I loved her too much to put her in danger.
The last time I confronted a murderer, Bella and I both almost got killed. If Rene got hurt because of me, I would never forgive myself. I didn’t think Bruce was the killer, but I was beginning to wonder. So if Rene was determined to come with me—which she was—I needed to figure out how to question Bruce without making him suspicious.
We walked in silence until we reached Bruce’s cabin. Up close, the building was even more impressive than I remembered. Climbing roses and old-growth rhododendrons nestled up to impeccably stained siding; a steep staircase led to an expansive deck and a second story entrance that protected the inhabitants’ privacy; floor-to-ceiling windows on the ocean side of the building overlooked a stunning Puget Sound view.
As we ascended the stairs, I reminded Rene of our agreed-upon strategy. “Okay Rene, remember what we decided. I’ll take the lead. You’re here for two reasons and two reasons only: moral support and to distract Bruce while I find an excuse to look around.”
Rene grinned. “Oh, I’ll distract Brucey all right. Miss Bird-on-the-Brain may have been immune to my charms, but Bruce will be a different story. Now that my morning sickness has started to subside, I’m back on my game. There hasn’t been a man born yet who’s able to resist me.”
Unfortunately, she was right.
“Who knows?” she continued. “Maybe I’ll even get a chance to do a little snooping myself.”
I grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop. “I mean it, Rene. You’re nothing but window dressing.” My voice sounded more irritable than I intended. I ratcheted my attitude back a notch. “Sam will have my head if he finds out that I got you involved in this.”
Rene looked at me, askance. “Mellow out, Kate. I’ve told you before. What Sam doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Just stay quiet and let me do the talking, OK?”
Rene stopped at the door and gave me a chivalrous bow. “As you wish, m’lady.” Then she stuck out her tongue. “But you’re no fun at all.”
I paused for a moment, held my breath, and lightly tapped on the door. A high pitched string of ear-piercing yelps responded.
I covered my ears and yelled over the din. “Sounds like Bandit’s home.”
Bruce was either off the premises or dead. No living being within a fifteen-mile radius could have ignored that infernal yapping.
“No one’s here,” I yelled. “I’ll have to come back later.”
“Don’t give up so quickly,” Rene replied. She pounded on the door with her fist. “Yoo hoo! Anybody home?” Bandit’s yips turned into wailing screams.
We waited another full minute. Still no answer.
“Fudge,” Rene said. “Can you see anything through the window?”
I stood on tiptoe and peeked through the small half-moon-shaped window above the door. All I could make out was an empty hallway, punctuated every few seconds by the black and white head of a levitating fur ball.
Rene’s luck was no better. “I can’t see through the curtains over here. Too bad the deck doesn’t extend to the view side.” She walked toward the right edge of the deck and pointed to a window above the rose bushes. “That one looks like it might open.” She stood on the bottom rail and reached toward the windowsill.
“Rene, what are you doing?”
She glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then leaned over the waist-high railing and craned her neck, trying to peer through the curtains. “I can’t quite reach. Kate, grab my feet.”
“Grab your what?”
Rene ignored my question and started climbing.
“Get down from there!” I snapped. “Are you nuts? You’re pregnant! What if you fall?”
She stood on the top rail for a moment, then snuggled the front of her body against the cabin, placed one hand against the siding for balance, and reached toward the window frame with the other. She glanced down at me.
“Are you going to help or what?”
I gave in and grabbed her ankle.
“Rene, be careful.”
“Stop worrying, Mom, I’m almost there. Just a little farther …” She let go of the siding, lifted her left leg, and leaned to the side, balancing only on her right foot. “I knew all those Half Moon Po
ses were good for something.”
Her fingernails tapped against the glass and alerted Bandit to her plan. His yelps faded away from the door, then grew louder as he approached the window.
“I think I might be able to get this window open enough to crawl through.” She lowered her left foot until both boots were on the rail again, turned ninety degrees, and placed her hands on the glass. “Hold on tight, Kate.”
I had a terrible feeling that this was going to end very badly.
“On three,” she mumbled, I assumed to herself. “One … two …”
A thousand things seemed to happen at once. The window opened. Bandit leaped for the void. A surprised-looking Bruce caught him mid-air and yelled, “What the hell?”
Rene gasped in surprise and her feet slipped. I panicked, yanked on her legs—hard—and pulled her back onto the deck, where she landed, flat on her butt.
I bent over her red-faced, prostrate form, reached out my hand, and started to help her up. “Oh no, Rene. I’m so sorry! Are you—”
Bruce interrupted before I could finish my sentence. “Bandit, shut up!”
He flung open the door and hit me from behind.
I fell on top of Rene, who crumbled back to the deck. We both lay tangled together for several seconds, limbs askew, the obvious losers in some demented version of Twister. Bandit crawled all over us, yapping and licking our faces.
“What in the hell are you two doing out here?” Bruce’s words slurred, as if his tongue had swollen two sizes too big. “Why were you trying to break into my cabin?”
Rene whispered in my ear, which was conveniently located two inches from her lips. “Let me handle this.” She scrambled out from under me, dusted the mud off her pants, and flashed Bruce a bright smile—the kind you see on late-night dentist commercials. “Oh thank goodness, you’re here. We were afraid we’d missed you.”
While Rene practiced flirting, I watched Bruce. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but he looked—and smelled—even worse than yesterday. He wore an expression of annoyed exhaustion and the same wrinkled clothes he’d had on the night before. The sweet, vanilla-like smell of bourbon laced his breath. A sharp, musky body odor emanated from everywhere else. Last night I thought he’d aged a decade; today it seemed closer to two.