Murder Strikes a Pose (29 page)

I didn’t raise some guilt-ridden Catholic school girl. I raised an intelligent, confident, resilient woman. Now act like one!’”

I could almost hear my father in Rene’s voice. For the first

time in two years, I even sensed his presence. I felt lighter, bright-er somehow, as if a leaden trench coat had been lifted from my

shoulders. And suddenly I knew: my father’s spirit had never truly left me. I’d simply been too ashamed to let him in.

Confessing my guilt somehow extinguished its power. I was

like a child who’d finally shone a flashlight under her bed, only to discover that the scary monster had been just a big dust bunny all along. For the first time since my father’s death, I found my missing piece. For the first time in two years, I felt
—
whole
.

I dabbed the napkin at my eyes. “That does sound like one of

his tirades.”

“You bet it does. I didn’t spend every Saturday at your house

and not pick up on a thing or two.” She paused. “Is this why you’ve been obsessing about your friend’s murder? Are you trying to

make up for some overblown mishap with your father?”

I’d wondered that myself but had no answers. “Honestly,

Rene, I don’t know. In some ways, this situation feels so familiar.

In others, it’s completely different. But I can’t stop thinking about George’s death. I have to know what happened.”

Rene squeezed my hands. “Kate, you know I’d do anything for

you. All you have to do is ask.”

235

I had no qualms about taking Rene up on her offer; I just didn’t

know how she could help. My head swam, and it had been swim-

ming for days. The answer was there, hovering barely out of reach.

It was like having all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but no photo or form to guide its construction. I needed context. I needed perspective.

Perhaps she could help after all.

“Can you come over tonight?”

We agreed to meet at my house at seven o’clock. Before then,

I had one more task. Even Nancy Drew needed a sidekick, right?

And the past few weeks proved one thing for certain: I was no

Nancy Drew.

I needed two.

The phone rang three times. I was about to hang up when I

heard a welcome voice on the line. “Pete’s Pets, how can I help

you?”

“Michael, it’s Kate. I need your help.”

236

twenty-six

At seven o’clock I was nervous. By seven-fifteen I was two min-

utes away from a full-blown panic attack. Butterflies didn’t just flutter in my stomach, they did the mambo. Even Bella looked

concerned. I hadn’t seen Michael in almost two weeks. What if

he’d gotten over me? What if he was dating Tiffany? What if he’d

grown back that god-awful beard? Rene plied me with alcohol and

tried to bolster my confidence.

The doorbell finally rang at seven-twenty. “Hi, stranger,” I said, not quite meeting Michael’s gaze.

“Hi yourself,” he replied. His tone was civil but distant. No

mischievous wrinkles softened his eyes. Michael and I may have

negotiated a temporary cease-fire, but a permanent peace treaty

was far from certain.

We walked into the living room. “I’d introduce you, but I think

you two have already met,” I said, smirking at Rene.

I should have known better than to tease her. In Rene’s world,

I had just declared war. She ignored my sarcasm and greeted Mi-

chael with a great big hug. Her eyes sparkled with good-natured

237

malice as she looked him up and down, appraisingly. “Kate’s right, you know. You look
gorgeous
without that beard.” She cemented her victory by claiming the room’s only chair.

Michael and I sat on opposite ends of the couch, leaving a full

cushion’s width between us. I hid my tomato-red face by pretend-

ing to study the bottom of my wine glass—not that anyone no-

ticed. Michael and Rene were too busy teasing each other about

facial hair, fake cats, and early morning wake-up calls to pay attention to me. Bella, the traitor, joyfully alternated between begging Michael for treats and rubbing fur all over Rene’s tights.

At least someone was having a good time.

In spite of my grumpy embarrassment, I couldn’t help but

smile. I’d lived in that house for most of my life, but it had never felt more like home. I sipped my wine and watched them playfully banter away the room’s tension. Several drinks and a few dog cookies later, we all sat together in companionable silence.

I wanted to repair my rift with Michael, but that would have

to wait. Instead, I jumped into the evening’s stated agenda. “I can’t figure out where I’m going wrong. Someone obviously thinks I’m

close to solving George’s murder, but I have no idea why. As far as I can tell, everything I’ve come up with so far has been a dead end.”

“Maybe brainstorming a list of suspects would help,” Rene of-

fered.

I pulled out a notebook. “It certainly can’t hurt. Let’s start

with the obvious. The murderer could have been someone from

George’s past. The police say George’s old business partner, Rob-

ert, has an alibi, but he could have hired a hit man.”

“I doubt it,” Michael replied. “What kind of hit man bashes his

target over the head? Besides, a professional killer wouldn’t waste 238

time threatening you, Kate. He’d either get out of town or make

you his next victim.”

“You have a point,” I conceded. “But Robert might have in-

volved someone who wasn’t a professional. He still has motive. We simply don’t know the means or opportunity yet.”

“But what’s his connection to you?” Rene asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never met this guy. You don’t even know his last name.

So why would he leave you that note?”

I thought for a moment. “Sarah could have told him about me.

She got pretty cagey when I asked about him.”

Rene disagreed. “Sounds too convoluted to me. According to

that theory, at least three people were involved in George’s death—

Sarah, Robert, and the murderer.” She shook her head. “You’re

reaching, Kate.”

She was right. “OK, scratch Robert.” I drew a line through his

name. “How about someone George knew through
Dollars for

Change
? Tali was furious that day I went back to the office.”

Rene absently rubbed Bella’s ears. “Well, you
did
lie to her. I’d be angry too. Besides, what motive would Tali have?”

“Just because we don’t know the motive doesn’t mean there

isn’t one. I think Tali should stay on the list.” I put a question mark next to her name. “She’s local, she knew I was asking questions

about George, and I told her where I work. She’s at least good for the rock through my window.” I took a sip of wine. “For that matter, lots of people at
Dollars for Change
know I’ve been looking into this. I haven’t exactly kept it a secret. What about that Surfer-Dude guy?”

239

Michael frowned. “I’m sure dozens of people knew George. But

we won’t get anywhere if we list every homeless person in Seattle.

Did anyone you interviewed stand out?”

My stomach dropped to my knees. “No, no one,” I quickly re-

plied. I had no intention of telling Michael about Charlie’s and my trip to Woodland Park, especially since it ended up being a dead

end. Michael had barely gotten over the rock through my window.

If I told him about my close call with Charlie, his head might explode.

I avoided eye contact and pretended to think. My quiet subter-

fuge didn’t fool anyone—least of all Michael. His facial expression morphed through multiple emotions, from suspicion, to anger, to

worry, to frustration. It finally settled on resignation.

“Fine,” he said drolly. “Have it your way. No one stood out. But

then what about you, Kate?”

“What about me?”

“If we’re going to suspect everyone George knew, you should

be at the top of the list. After all, we
know
you have a violent temper.”

I leaned over and punched him in the arm. “Keep it up, funny

man.” I reluctantly crossed out Tali’s name. “You do have a point, though. Most people would never kill without a compelling reason. A killer has to be either highly motivated or insane, especially if the murder is premeditated. Tali and Surfer Dude didn’t seem

either.” I paused a moment, thinking. “But Bella’s old owner might be. I think we should add him to the list.”

“Why him?” asked Rene.

“He’s obviously violent; my arm had the bruises to prove it.

And his wife’s face looked like a punching bag. I may not be able to 240

prove
that Trucker Man beat her, but I’d be willing to bet the rest of my savings on it.”

Rene looked skeptical. “But what motive would he have to kill

George? Did he even know him?”

“I didn’t think so at first, but I’m beginning to wonder. When

I took Bella to Trucker Man’s house, he mentioned that the “bum”

who stole her should have stuck to selling newspapers. At the time, I assumed Betty had told him about George, but now I’m not so

sure.”

Rene leaned forward. “Why not? Betty must have spoken with

him. After all, she gave him your phone number.”

“Yes, but I was deliberately vague with Betty about Bella’s his-

tory. I know I told her George was homeless, but I don’t think I

said anything about
Dollars for Change
. So how did Trucker Man know George sold newspapers?

I looked at Bella’s puppy collar lying on the mantle. “And the

whole blackmail angle has always bothered me. I couldn’t believe

George would do something so cruel. But George was fiercely pro-

tective of Bella. I never understood how he felt until I met with that awful trainer, Jim.” I suppressed a shudder. “I almost electro-cuted Jim with his own shock collar, and he never even touched

Bella. Can you imagine what George must have wanted to do to

Trucker man? He would have felt justified, righteous even, extorting money from that monster.”

“Maybe, but—” Rene tried to interrupt, but I was on a roll.

“And my Trucker Man theory explains George’s missing time.

Trucker man lives thirty miles from Seattle and almost forty miles from Sarah. Traveling that distance without a car can’t be simple, especially with a dog as scary-looking as Bella. George could easily have spent several days getting back and forth.”

241

Michael took over Rene’s role as devil’s advocate. “But what

about the note in your car?”

“Trucker Man could have thrown that rock. Betty told him

where I worked, and he knew my car. I drove it to his house.”

“When was the last time you talked to this guy?” Michael asked.

I didn’t have to look at my calendar; that morning was indel-

ibly printed on my memory. “Over two weeks ago. The Tuesday

after our date.”

“Did you talk about George’s murder?”

I hesitated. “Well, no, we were focused on Bella.”

“That’s what I thought. Then why would he feel threatened

enough to risk leaving you that note?”

Damn
. The familiar dull throbbing behind my eyes returned.

“You’re right.” I sighed. “The problem is
nothing
makes sense. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks now, but I keep spinning in

circles.” I tossed my notebook on the coffee table in frustration.

Rene stood up and handed it right back to me. “Don’t give

up so easily, we’re just getting started.” She refilled her wine glass.

“What about George’s daughter?”

I hesitated. “I’m conflicted about her.”

“How?”

“Well, Sarah hated her father, and both she and her husband

seemed capable of violence, given the right provocation. Plus, I’m not fully convinced of their joint alibi the night of the murder.” I shook my head, frowning. “But they don’t feel right to me.”

Rene looked at me, puzzled. “They have motive, means, and

opportunity. What am I missing?”

“George felt horrible about how he hurt his family. He never

would have blackmailed Sarah.”

242

“What if you’ve got the whole blackmail angle wrong?” Michael

interjected. “You’re putting a lot of weight on that one woman’s

word. And even if George was blackmailing someone, that person

isn’t necessarily the killer. Let’s set extortion aside for a moment.

Who else has motive?”

We all three stared at each other in silence.

Finally, Rene spoke. “You know, even without blackmail, mon-

ey 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