Murder Strikes a Pose (25 page)

I figured listening to three out of four wasn’t bad.

_____

I called Melissa later that afternoon. Alicia made good on her

promise and pulled those magic strings. Although Melissa nor-

mally had a month-long waiting list, she agreed to squeeze in an

appointment for Bella the following weekend. Even better, she in-

sisted that we meet at my house, so she could interact with Bella in her normal environment.

Score! No forty-five-minute commute! Things were definitely

looking up. And they got better. Around three o’clock, Michael appeared at my door.

“Hey, I’m sorry about getting so angry earlier,” he said as he

sheepishly entered the lobby. “I got caught off-guard. First I was shocked at the mess; then I saw Jake hiding behind the desk. I can’t afford to make him mad. Jake hates dogs, and he’d love to find

an excuse to kick Pete’s Pets out of the complex. When I saw him

cowering behind the chair, I overreacted.”

“I’m sorry, too.” I smiled. “That whole catastrophe was my

fault. I really should have known better than to take Bella in with me.” I picked up my billfold. “How much do I owe you for the

damage?”

“Forget about it.” Michael replied, smiling. “That’s the least

of my worries. Tell you what. Let’s make it up to each other over drinks tonight. How about nine-thirty?”

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I felt a familiar flutter low in my belly—and a few other body

parts I don’t care to mention. “Sounds perfect. It’s a date!”

I spent the rest of the day literally whistling while I worked. I took Bella home during my dinner break and freshened up. Today

was going to be a great day. It was
Kate’s
day. If I was lucky, Kate’s
night
would involve an overnight guest.

Michael arrived at nine-thirty on the dot.

“Hey there,” I said. “Ready for our hot date?”

“You bet!” He raised his eyebrows and grinned. The Cheshire

Cat couldn’t have been cuter.

“Give me a second to lock up,” I said, grabbing my keys.

“There’s a new wine bar in Ballard I’ve been dying to try. Do you mind if I drive?”

I didn’t really lie. True, I’d been to that wine bar twice before, but never on a Friday. And the fact that it was within walking distance of my house was simply a bonus. No self-respecting yoga

teacher would ask a guy to spend the night on the second date, but she could always stack the deck in her favor, couldn’t she?

We headed out to the parking lot, hand in hand. I walked Mi-

chael to the passenger side of my car. “Allow me to get the door for you, sir,” I said, bowing and using my most chivalrous voice.

Michael pulled me close.

“Uh, Kate, hang on a second. Do you see that?”

Unfortunately, I did.
So much for Kate’s night.

My driver’s side window was shattered. I carefully opened the

door, picked up the rock on the seat, and read the attached note.

“Stay out of it. Or you’ll be next.”

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twenty-two

“This can’t be happening again,” I moaned into my hands. The

patrol car’s pulsating lights shattered the darkness, like flashes of memory best left forgotten. I spoke with detectives Martinez and

Henderson through a PTSD-like haze.

“Thank you for coming. I asked the officer to call so you could

see for yourself. You may not have believed me before, but this

note proves I’m right. I’m getting close.”

Martinez looked at me warily. “Close to what?”

“Close to solving George’s murder.”

Henderson frowned. “It’s just a broken window, ma’am, not

a professional hit.” He handed the note to Martinez. “But you’re

right about one thing: it does look like someone isn’t too happy

with you. Any idea who that might be?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “If I knew who did this, I would

have told you already.” I immediately regretted my tone; arguing

would get me nowhere. I took a deep breath and ratcheted my at-

titude back a notch. “But it has to be George’s murderer, or at least someone involved with his death.”

203

“That’s quite a stretch, ma’am,” Henderson replied. “Vandalism

like this happens all the time. Probably some kids having their version of a fun night out on the town.”

“But you
will
take a closer look at George’s murder, won’t you?”

I turned to Martinez. “Here, look at this. While I was waiting for you, I wrote down everyone I’ve questioned about the case so far.

The answer is bound to be in there somewhere.”

She scanned the paper, frowning. “I’ll add this information to

the murder book, but we’ve already talked to most of these peo-

ple—although this ‘Momma Bird’ character doesn’t sound famil-

iar.” She folded the list and placed it in her notebook. “Look, Kate,”

she said soberly. “I’ll admit that this vandalism is suspicious, but the note isn’t exactly specific. Detective Henderson is right. It was probably some kids getting their kicks.”

“Why would kids leave a note like that?”

She shrugged. “Who knows why teenagers do half the things

they do?”

“You can’t ignore—”

“Kate,” she interrupted sharply, “I promise we’ll look into this.”

The two detectives exchanged a knowing look. “But don’t get your

hopes up.”

“But you have to—”

She held up her hand in the universal stop sign. “I
said
I’ll look into it.”

I didn’t respond—at least not verbally. Martinez and I faced

each other in mutual aggravation, our prickly silence so charged a stray spark would have ignited it.

“In the meantime,” she continued, “my advice is to go home,

call your insurance company, and get some sleep.” She pointed at

204

the broken glass littering my Honda’s interior. “Do you need a ride home, or can your friend here take you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” Michael replied.

The patrol car drove off twenty minutes later, leaving Michael

and me to sweep up the glass and cover my missing window. An

hour ago I’d been excited about the evening ahead. Now I wanted

to crawl into bed, pull the sheets over my head, and forget the entire day ever happened. I collapsed in the passenger seat of Mi-

chael’s Explorer, so weary my bones ached. “Not exactly the hot

date we had planned, was it?”

“Not exactly,” he said soberly. “But at least now maybe you’ll

see reason.”

Uh-oh.
My stomach tightened.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe now you’ll take everyone’s advice and stay out of this

murder investigation.”

Adrenaline flooded my system, replacing exhaustion with agi-

tation. “Are you kidding? Martinez was the closest thing to an ally I had on George’s case. If she’s convinced the note was left by some prankster teen, then my car was damaged for nothing! You all may

think I’m delusional, but that note proves I’m not—I’m getting

close, and someone doesn’t like it.”

Concern and irritation vied for dominance on Michael’s face.

“So what if you
are
getting close? George’s killer obviously isn’t afraid to use violence. What do you hope to accomplish by pro-voking him? Do you want to get yourself hurt—or worse?”

“No, but—”

“You’re out of your league here, Kate. At best, you’re making a

fool of yourself. At worst, you’re risking your life. I know it’s not your strong suit, but see reason for once.”

205

I went from agitated to furious in three seconds flat. Michael

didn’t know it, but he had just declared war.
“Reason’s not my strong suit, huh?” I hissed. “Well, evidently not. If I were
reasonable
I’d never have agreed to go out with
you
.”

Michael winced, surprised by my outburst. “Come on, don’t be

that way. I’m trying to protect you.”

The last person who’d tried to protect me was my father. I didn’t appreciate it from him then, and I liked it even less from Michael now. In a weird flash of insight, I remembered my Aunt Rita. She

used to refer to her monthly cycle as “the curse.” Now, glowering at Michael, I knew she was wrong. If God cursed woman, it was by

forcing her to live with the testosterone-driven beast called man.

It was high time woman fought back.

My words spewed out like venom. “I’ve lived without you and

your big, strong, manly presence for thirty-two years, and I’ve

managed to survive just fine.” I crossed my arms and glared, dar-

ing Michael to reply.

He answered with echoing silence. He just set his jaw, stared

straight ahead, and drove. We both quietly seethed for the ten-

minute drive home. After what felt like ten hours, he pulled into my driveway, parked the car, and turned to face me.

Michael spoke slowly and sternly, as if scolding an obstinate

child. “Kate, let me be very clear about this. You will not continue this murder investigation, under any circumstances. I forbid it.”

Michael’s words were unequivocal, not to be challenged. He was

man. He was in charge. He expected no argument.

He was an idiot.

“You
forbid
it?” I shouted. “What are you, a Neanderthal? What next? Are you going to hit me over the head and drag me off to

your cave?”

206

Michael opened his mouth, but remained speechless. That was

fine by me—I wasn’t finished. “If you think you can waltz into my life and start giving me orders, you are sorely mistaken.”

I jumped out of the car, then leaned back in to give Michael

one final message. “Take your big, macho self and your jumbo-

sized ego and drive on out of here, mister. No one tells me what to do.” I slammed the door and stomped away.

Michael followed, practically chasing me to the house. “Kate,

wait,” he yelled to my back. “I’m sorry. That came out horribly

wrong. I’m just worried about you!” He grabbed my arm. I yanked

it back and kept walking.

“Slow down!” he pleaded. “You can’t march off in a huff every

time we disagree. Let’s talk this through.”

I spun around to face him with a defiant grin. “That’s the beau-

ty of being single, Michael. I can do anything I want. Now get off my property before I call the police for the second time tonight.”

I stomped into the house and slammed the door. The deadbolt

turned with a satisfying click. “Bella, I’m home!” I yelled in a voice loud enough to be heard by Michael or anyone else stupid enough

to still be standing on my porch. “We were wrong. This one’s a dud like all the rest.
Too bossy
.”

I turned off the exterior lights. If Michael was still out there, he could
feel
his way back to the car. I completed my diatribe by releasing Bella from her crate, marching upstairs, and flopping on the bed. Bella jumped up after me, looking concerned. I lay there for several minutes, congratulating myself on my clear victory.

At least, that is, until my adrenaline levels returned to normal

and my rational mind reengaged. I looked at Bella, read the con-

fusion on her face, and realized what I’d done. I’d lost my tem-

207

per and lashed out exactly like I had that night with my father. No matter how much I wanted to, I’d never change.

All the emotions I’d fought to suppress for the past two years

came flooding back. My body felt heavy—so heavy I could barely

lift my head. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. I’d deluded myself into thinking I could open up again, but I’d been wrong. I didn’t
want
a relationship. I didn’t
deserve
a relationship. Michael was better off without me. I was better off alone.

Bella whined, clearly uncomfortable with my pain. She lay

down beside me and licked at my tears. I hugged her back and

sobbed, rocking slowly back and forth.

“I know girl, I know. We’re on our own again.”

_____

I gave up on sleep at five-thirty, crawled out of bed, and shook

off the fog of depression threatening to envelop me. Ten days had passed since George’s murder, and the police still didn’t have any viable suspects. If my conversation with Martinez and Henderson

last night was any indication, they weren’t even actively working the case. Well, police be damned. Michael be damned. Now that I

was single again, no one would stop me. I would get to the bottom of George’s death, even if it killed me.

But how? I’d obviously stirred someone up, but I had no idea

who, how, or why. I considered interviewing every
Dollars for
Change
vendor in the greater Seattle area, but how many papers could one girl buy, anyway? My best bet was to go back to the

source.

I didn’t want to stir up trouble; in fact, the last thing my heart could take was more conflict. But depression’s cold tongue licked at my heels. If I didn’t force myself to take action soon, I would 208

give into it entirely. So I rented a car and drove, solo this time, to the
Dollars for Change
office. I walked into the office with my head held high, praying that Ralphie and Tali hadn’t compared notes.

“You again. You lied to us!” Tali hissed. “If you’re going to make fools of us, you and your friend should at least get your stories straight. Poor Ralph was heartbroken. He waited for Suzie for over two hours.”

“I’m so sorry,” I replied. “I had no idea she was going to set him up like that. But we meant well.” I spoke loud enough to be heard throughout the entire office. “I’m investigating George Levin’s

murder, and I need information.”

A small crowd gathered around the desk. Even Ralph emerged

from his cubicle to see who was causing all the commotion. This

time, we weren’t alone. At nine o’clock in the morning, dozens of
Dollars for Change
vendors of assorted ages, ethnicities, shapes, and sizes loitered about the office, waiting to pick up the daily edition.