Murder Strikes a Pose (19 page)

That’s part of the trouble. I should have known better than to expect a
bitch
to do a man’s job.”

Bitch is, of course, a commonly used term for female dog. And,

as Dad used to say, if you think that’s what he meant, I have some swampland in Arizona to sell you. I wanted to come up with a

149

scathing reply, but I couldn’t. I just stood there with my mouth

hanging open.

“Listen, lady,” he growled. “I paid good money for that dog,

and I intend to get it back. I’m selling her.”

“To whom?” I asked, incredulous. “She doesn’t like other dogs,

and she’s not healthy. Didn’t you notice how skinny she is? She

needs expensive medication.”

Trucker Man’s upper lip lifted, exposing a cruel-looking grin.

“Guess that drunken bum didn’t get much of a deal when he stole

that worthless mutt, now did he? He should have stuck to raiding

garbage cans and selling newspapers.”

My fists clenched so hard that my fingernails practically drew

blood from my palms. If I’d been a cartoon, steam would have

poured from my ears. How could this cretin talk about George that way?

“Listen, you son of a bi—”

I stopped mid-sentence, frozen.

Did he say drunken bum?

How did Trucker Man know about George? I thought he had

no idea who took his dog. My mind raced, searching for answers.

I hadn’t told him about George, that much was certain. But may-

be I didn’t have to. Maybe George hadn’t been as invisible as he

thought. Maybe Trucker Man knew about George all along …

I took a step back, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Could Trucker

Man be George’s killer?

Trucker Man’s eyes narrowed; his lips barely moved. “What did

you call me?”

Prickly uneasiness tingled down my spine.
Time to get the heck
out of Dodge.
I fingered my keys and cautiously backed away. I’d just ease on over to the car, hightail it back to Seattle, and call 150

Detective Johnson. He could deal with this cowboy-booted psy-

chopath. I hadn’t come here to face off with a killer, anyway. All I wanted was to get rid of a dog. Like I’d already told Betty …

Then it hit me. Of course. Betty.

Betty and I had discussed Bella’s history that night at the res-

cue. She must have told Trucker Man about George, though I was

surprised he gave her the chance; he didn’t strike me as much of a conversationalist. I glanced up at my would-be assailant. Trucker Man glowered and grumbled under his breath, but he made no

move to attack. Frankly, I couldn’t blame him for being angry. I’d be grumpy, too, if a stranger showed up on my doorstep and started calling me names.
Give it a break, Kate. Not everyone who pisses
you off is a killer.

I took a deep breath, relaxed my hands, and consciously let go

of my keys. Trucker Man was obviously a jerk; he might even be a

wife beater. But that didn’t make him a murderer. My overactive

imagination was getting the best of me again—or at least I hoped

so. In any case, I’d have plenty of time to puzzle this through later.

Bella was my priority now.

I held up my hands, hoping to mollify him. “I’m sorry. I

shouldn’t have said that.”

He didn’t reply.

“My point is, you can’t sell this dog. Nobody in their right

mind is going to buy her. And if they do, they’ll bring her back

as soon they take her to a vet. You’ll end up right back where you started—with a sick dog and no money. You’ll either have to spend a fortune on Bella’s treatment or put her down. And I’d hate to see her put down.”

Trucker Man smiled in a “gotcha” sort of way. “Well, then,” he

said in a low, threatening tone, “at least I’ll get the pleasure of shoot-151

ing her.” He looked pointedly at his truck. The gun rack mounted

on top couldn’t have been more ominous. My entire body flashed

hot, then cold as I imagined Bella cowering in front of one of those awful hunting rifles.

I desperately wanted to hold my ground. I wanted to show that

sociopath that he couldn’t get away with bullying women and de-

fenseless animals. I wanted to prove I was more of a “man” than he’d ever be. But I couldn’t help myself. I flinched and took several steps back.

“You wouldn’t—”

“Unless, that is,
you’re
interested in buying her. You seem mighty attached to that mongrel.”

I swallowed hard. “How much do you want?”

“I paid $800 for her.”

I had the money. It was a significant part of my dwindling sav-

ings, but I had it. I seriously considered calling his bluff. No one would have blamed me. The money I had left in savings was my

only emergency cushion, and it was already worn dangerously thin.

We’re trained, in our culture, to take care of ourselves first.

Even flight attendants tell you to put on your own oxygen mask

before helping those around you. But they never tell you what

happens afterwards. How do you live with yourself if you survive

and the person next to you doesn’t?

I could never leave Bella here. I’d never forgive myself.

“Fine. Eight hundred it is. Let me get my checkbook.” I turned

toward my car.

He stepped in front of me, blocking the way. “Not so fast, pret-

ty lady. I also fed this mutt for three months. I figure that’s worth at least another few hundred.”

“Are you kidding me? There’s no way—”

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“Don’t test me,” he snapped, raising a fist.

I flinched, waiting for impact. Trucker Man froze. We locked

eyes for several uncomfortable seconds. Finally he lowered his arm and smiled disingenuously. “But since I’m in a generous mood, I’ll let her go for an even grand. That seems like a pretty good deal if you ask me.”

“You win.” Trembling with an odd mixture of fear, frustra-

tion, and disgust, I grabbed my purse, ripped out the check, and

slapped it in his hand.

“This had better not bounce,” he snarled.

“It won’t.” I jumped into the car before he raised the price

again. “Bella, we’re out of here.” I peeled away from the curb, wishing I could splash that creep in even more slime. I settled for giving him a nasty look and mentally showing him the finger.

I whispered a prayer to the universe as Bella and I drove away.

“Please don’t let him cash that check today.” Until I got money

transferred from savings, it would bounce to high heaven. But I

wasn’t about to stiff this guy on purpose. My arm still throbbed

where he grabbed it; I would be black-and-blue there tomorrow.

I’d been threatened and bruised, and my only crime was buy-

ing a dog he didn’t even want. I couldn’t help but wonder: What

would Trucker Man do if someone stole from him? Would he be

capable of worse violence—even murder? A stray thought nibbled

at the edges of my subconscious—a detail just out of my grasp.

But I was too full of angst and adrenaline to puzzle it out then. My only goal in that moment was to escape. I pressed down on the ac-celerator and sped back towards Seattle, where Bella and I would

presumably be safe.

153

seventeen

Twenty-four hours later, I still felt oddly elated—especially

since I’d just spent a thousand dollars I couldn’t afford to buy

a dog I had no intention of keeping. Still, we take our victories where we can, right? On to my next contest. Mocha Mia was my

battlefield. My target, Rene. I fired off my first verbal volley before her plate hit the table. I didn’t even give her a chance to complain about her “World’s Best Grandma” coffee mug.

“I can’t
believe
you went and schemed with Michael behind my back. I feel like a call girl, and
you
, well, you may as well be my pimp.”

Rene didn’t even pretend to look guilty as she snarfed down

her salted caramel brownie. For a moment, I considered a trade:

forgiveness for a bite of sweet, salty, chocolate-laced decadence.

Rene read my mind and pulled her plate closer. The word share

was not part of her vocabulary.

“What did you expect me to do?” she said between mouthfuls.

“Leave the evening up to you? Without my help, you never would

have figured out that this guy is perfect for you.”

154

“What do you mean, ‘perfect for me’? I barely know the guy!

And you know him even less. Unless, that is, you two traitors have been conspiring even more than I realize.” I sternly shook my finger. “If so, you’d better fess up now.”

My fictional hissy-fit had no effect. Rene stared back, com-

pletely relaxed and self-satisfied, as she licked the last crumbs of brownie off her fingertips. I exacted revenge by not pointing out the smear of caramel hanging off her chin.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I asked anyway. “Tell me

the truth, Rene. Did you tell Michael to shave off his beard?”

“Well, I may have mentioned that you had a thing about fa-

cial hair, but he was planning to shave it off anyway—for Bella.

He really has a thing for that dog, which proves he’s
almost
crazy enough for you. How does he look without it?”

“Gorgeous.” I sighed. “Simply gorgeous.”

Rene’s lascivious grin spread ear to ear. “Ha! I knew it! So spill.

Tell me every last disgusting detail. Now that I’m an old married hag, I have to get my kicks vicariously. Your sputtering love life will have to do.”

“Spare me. You and Sam will still be making out like newly-

weds when you’re old and toothless, feeding each other butter-

scotch pudding in a nursing home.” I paused and tried to look

bashful. “Besides, a nice girl like me doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But there was a lot of kissing, right? And maybe a little—”

“You’re right, he
is
perfect for me,” I interrupted, hoping to change the subject. “He’s broke, he works too hard, and”—I looked at her pointedly—“he obviously shares my terrible taste in friends.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “But you’re right. I do like him. A lot.”

Rene leaned back in her chair, looking positively pleased

with herself. “Now all I have to do is keep you from discover-

155

ing his faults before the infatuation phase is over.” She rested

her chin in her hand and tapped an index finger against her lips.

“Hmm … perhaps another visit to the pet store is in order …”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You know me better than that—of course I would!”

I threw my wadded-up napkin and hit her square on the nose.

“That’s five points for accuracy.” I smirked.

Rene smiled back. “I do love you, you know. I only want you to

be happy.”

I took a deep drink of my triple cappuccino and sighed. “Hon-

estly, Rene, what would make me happiest right now is having

my life back. And that means getting Bella out of my house and

figuring out what happened to George. I can’t shake the feeling

that there’s more to his murder than the police realize.” I idly drew shapes in the coffee’s foam swirl. “The answer has to lie in those ten days George and Bella were gone. I can’t stop thinking about

it. Where did he go, and who did he spend that time with? Bella’s test results took three days, and I’m sure it took George a couple of days to get to Sarah’s and back. But that still leaves almost five days unaccounted for. I can’t help but think the answer lies in that missing time.”

“Have you gone to that place he worked yet?”

“The
Dollars for Change
office? No, but I will. First I have to come up with a good cover story. The ‘I need to find a home for

the poor lost dog’ routine only gets me so far. The minute I start asking questions, people know I’m up to something. I’m not exactly Nancy Drew.”

Rene perked up. She looked like a toy poodle begging for a

cookie. “That’s because you need a partner! Ooh, ooh, ooh! Take

me with you, please? We’ll have so much fun!”

156

I gaped at her incredulously.

“Don’t you ever read mystery novels?” she continued, brim-

ming with excitement. “You can’t snoop alone. There’s always a

sidekick!”

“No. Freaking. Way,” I replied
.
“I haven’t forgiven you for meddling in my date with Michael yet. I absolutely will not, under any circumstances, encourage you to snoop around in something else.”

“Please, please, please? I’ll be good, I promise!” She practically started drooling.

“What makes you think you’ll be so much help, anyway?”

“Come on, Kate, be real. You’re cute and all, and women like to

confide in you—probably because of all that woo-woo yoga en-

ergy. But when it comes to men, straight-up sex appeal does it every time. And I’ve got you beat in that department, hands down.”

She batted her eyelashes. “One little wiggle of my derriere, and

the guys in that office will spill all of their deep, dark secrets. They won’t be able to help themselves. You, on the other hand, will have to talk to the women. I don’t know why, but women don’t seem to

trust me.”

I sure didn’t. But Rene had a point. Double-teaming seemed to

work in all of my favorite police dramas. Maybe it was that whole good-cop, bad-cop routine.

“Well, I suppose I could use the company. But if you misbe-

have, I swear I’ll—”

“We’re outta here!” she said, jumping up. “Put that coffee in a

to-go cup. We girls are going on an adventure!”

I paused before opening the door. “Rene, are you sure Sam will

be OK with this?”

“Honey, what Sam doesn’t know won’t hurt him one little bit.

Besides, how much trouble can we get into, anyway?”

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_____

While I drove to the Georgetown office of
Dollars for Change
, Rene prepared for her role. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, freshened her lipstick, and brushed out her hair. After wiping the caramel off her chin, she gave herself a final come-hither look in the mirror, removed her wedding ring, and placed it in the glove box. She clearly planned to take no prisoners.