Karma's a Killer

by Tracy Weber

  I gave Dale a droll look. “Come on. You have to tell me more than that.”

  “Honestly, there’s nothing to tell, except my suspicions. I’ve been in this business a long time. I can tell when a client is holding back, and Dharma’s doing it in spades. The question is, what is she hiding and why? Something’s weird about her involvement with HEAT, that’s for sure. She gets cagey when I ask about the organization, and I don’t buy her story of how she ended up with them. Going from protecting mountain gorillas to picketing dog owners? There’s a story there, and it’s not the one she’s giving me.” He raked his fingers across his beard. “I’ll do what I can, but … ” His words trailed off.

  I had a very bad feeling about his use of the word “but.”

  He reached into his pocket and removed a black plastic card. “I was able to get this, though. Dharma asked me to give it to you.”

  I knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

  “What is it?”

  “Dharma’s room key.” He handed me the card and a note with the motel’s name. “It’s on Aurora Avenue, not far from here. Dharma was staying in room 231. She said you agreed to pick up her belongings.” Dale looked serious. “I hate to say it, but unless something changes, you may be keeping them for her for a very long time.”

  Eleven

  After Dale left to go back to his hotel, Michael and I spent the rest of the evening putting my supply cabinet door back on its hinges and filling four garbage bags with Bandit’s shredded debris. Shortly after ten, we finally arrived home and cuddled together on the couch. Bella slurped down her dinner while Michael drank a Guinness and I sipped my second glass of wine.

  Michael absently stroked my hair. “Kate, promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If anything ever happens to Dale, swear to me that we won’t adopt Bandit.”

  I snuggled in deeper and smiled. “Deal.”

  I wanted that moment to last forever. Wrapped up in Michael’s arms. Warm. Contented. Safe. But I knew that our temporary harmony would crumble under the weight of the next secret, and in my life, there would always be a next secret. Michael and I both deserved a relationship that was solid. A relationship we could count on.

  I drained the last drops of oaky Chardonnay and took a deep, bolstering breath.

  “We need to talk.”

  Michael’s body stiffened, but I forced myself to continue. “The last couple of days have been tough on us. I know that, and I know you want more.”

  He didn’t contradict me.

  I pushed several piles of junk mail aside, set my glass on the end table, and turned to face him.

  “We keep fighting about the same issue over and over again. I love you. I will always love you. But I’m not perfect. Frankly, being in a relationship with me will sometimes be lonely. I know I promised not to shut you out, but this whole mess with Dharma made me realize that’s a promise I can’t keep.

  Michael opened his mouth to disagree, but I cut him off.

  “Please, Michael, hear me out.” My throat ached, but I kept talking. “Growing up as the only child of a single-parent cop wasn’t easy. Every time I said goodbye to Dad, I knew it might be the last. I learned to be independent. I had to, to survive. ” I poured another half-glass of wine and took a large swallow. “Heck, maybe that’s just an excuse. Maybe self-reliance is simply part of my karma, left over from a prior life.”

  “You don’t think you can learn to depend on someone else? To depend on me?”

  “I already depend on you, more than you know. And it terrifies me.” I took his hands. “I’m growing, Michael. I know you see that, but I don’t think your expectations of me are realistic. How can I promise not to hide things from you when most of the time I hide them from myself?”

  Michael’s chin trembled. “What are you saying, Kate? Do you want to break up?”

  I teasingly nudged his arm. “You should be so lucky. I’m afraid, my dear, that you’re stuck with me.”

  He looked confused. “Then what is this about?”

  I gestured around the living room at his junk. “Neither of us is perfect. If this relationship is going to work, we have to learn to accept each other—good, bad, and messy. Keeping things inside is my messy.” I shrugged. “I can’t be the only one who changes.”

  Michael didn’t reply and I wasn’t sure how to continue, so I slapped the couch cushion next to me. Bella jumped up, turned a quick circle, then lay down with her head resting in my lap. “Telling you about Dharma was hard for me, Michael, and you reacted by scolding me because I’d told Rene first. I’m doing my best to open up to you. When I do, you can’t jump all over me for not having done it sooner.”

  Several infinite seconds of silence passed before Michael replied. “Okay.”

  I smiled and took another deep swig from my glass. “Good. I need one more promise from you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You need to support my decisions, even when you think I’m making a mistake.”

  Michael’s eyes grew wary. “What mistake are you making now?”

  I answered by avoiding the question. “I know you worry about me. We almost broke up when I tried to solve George’s murder. You even wanted me to stay out of Monica’s murder investigation, and I was trying to prove my own innocence that time. We’re about to start the whole process again.”

  Michael remained quiet.

  “Believe me, I don’t seek out violence, but it obviously follows me. I don’t know why, but there must be a reason.” I averted my eyes. “Maybe I deserve it somehow.”

  “Kate, that’s crazy. How could you possibly deserve it?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think there’s a reason. The universe has certainly been kicking me in the ass lately. Maybe there’s some weird life lesson I’m supposed to learn. Maybe helping bring killers to justice is the universe’s way of making me atone.”

  “Atone for what?”

  I couldn’t tell him. My nagging guilt about Orcas was one of the secrets I still kept hidden inside.

  I closed my eyes and consciously released a long, slow breath. “My point is, Dharma is in trouble, and I have to help her.”

  “You did. You got Dale to represent her.”

  “Yes, but you heard him tonight. Even he thinks Dharma’s case looks bad.” I brushed my fingertips down Bella’s muzzle. She sighed and relaxed her weight into my lap. “I’ll be the first to admit, for a cop’s daughter, I haven’t been the most effective sleuth so far. Dad didn’t share much of that part of his life with me. But I’m learning, and I’m going to do what I can to help solve Raven’s murder. I know you won’t approve, but I hope you won’t try to stop me. I don’t want to hide from you anymore.”

  I held my body completely still, hoping Michael wasn’t about to explode.

  He stared down at the floor for several long moments before he looked up and met my eyes. “You’re right, Kate. I hate it when you put yourself in danger.”

  “Who said anything about putting myself in—”

  Michael held up his hands, clearly asking me not to argue. “Harassing murder suspects can’t be safe, Kate, and you know it.” His lips turned downward. “But I won’t try to stop you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m simply being pragmatic. Trying to stop you wouldn’t do any good, anyway. I’m better off helping. What have you learned so far?”

  “Not much, honestly.”

  I outlined what I knew about Dharma’s past, Eduardo and Raven’s affair, and my suspicions about Maggie and her prior knowledge of HEAT.

  “I thought Maggie acted funny on Saturday, too,” Michael replied. “I looked up HEAT online, and from what I could find, they’ve never protested an animal rescue before this weekend. There has to be a reason they started with DogMa.”


  “You’ve been researching?”

  “I’m the one who set up this whole fiasco with DogMa, remember? If something hinky is going on with Maggie or her organization, I need to know about it. Besides, you’re not the only one in this room with a healthy sense of curiosity.”

  I smiled.

  “Like I said, though, I didn’t find much. Maggie opened DogMa a little over three years ago. She must have had private funding of some sort, because she opened with space for almost a hundred animals. She didn’t apply for 501c3 status until over a year later. I should have done more research before I decided to back them in such a big way, but I liked Maggie, and DogMa is well regarded. The only criticism of them is that they don’t take hard-to-place animals.”

  “They wouldn’t take Bella, that’s for sure. They were one of the first places I called after George died.” I looked down guiltily at my furry best friend. “Sorry, sweetie. That was before I realized you and I were meant for each other.”

  “You didn’t want to hear it at the time,” Michael replied, “but they were right to refuse her. Bella wouldn’t have survived in a

  shelter environment. ‘No-kill’ and ‘hard-to-place’ don’t generally go well together. DogMa’s goal is to get animals into new homes as quickly as possible. Remember, every animal Maggie places in a new home frees up space at her shelter for another.”

  I frowned. He was right, but that was little comfort to special-needs animals like Bella.

  “If the answers were easy, Kate, every pet would have a home.”

  “So, what did you find about HEAT?” I asked after a moment.

  “Well, they don’t have tax-exempt status with the IRS, so they don’t qualify as a nonprofit, at least not yet. They started showing up online about two years ago. Historically, their actions have seemed reasonable enough. Protesting inhumane farming practices, going after companies that use animal testing, promoting veganism, that sort of thing. Attacking a reputable shelter, especially one in a different state, isn’t like them.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  “I think we should start by questioning Maggie. Luckily, I have the perfect excuse to pay her a visit.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Her favorite subject. Donations.”

  Michael was off work the next morning, so he stayed home with Bella and promised to set up a meeting with Maggie, ostensibly so we could drop off some last-minute donations. We opted to keep our ulterior motives to ourselves.

  In the meantime, I was on Dharma’s errand duty. I drove down Aurora Avenue North to an area that housed a collection of dingy, pay-per-hour type motels. I pulled into the parking lot of Dharma’s motel at ten, which left sixty minutes for my search-and-retrieve mission before the eleven o’clock check-out time.

  At one time, the motel’s exterior had probably been inviting, with weatherproof vinyl siding, flower-filled window boxes, and the requisite soda and snack room. Today, the beige plastic siding was covered with cobwebs, the ice machine sported a handwritten Out of Order sign, and the flower pots were filled with desiccated brown ivy.

  I tapped on the door to Dharma’s room, waited a few seconds, then slid the key card into the slot and slowly pushed open the door.

  “Hello? Anybody here?”

  Flattened blue carpet, a sixties-style threadbare bedspread, and the unappetizing scent of disinfectant-laced mildew greeted me.

  I opened the curtains for light and blocked the door open for ventilation. I grabbed Dharma’s empty suitcase, tossed it on the bed, and wandered around the tiny room, looking for items to fill it. There wasn’t much. The black shirt with the HEAT insignia that Dharma had worn Saturday morning lay crumpled on the floor next to the television. Several blouses and two pairs of jeans hung in the closet. A makeup case, hairbrush, and assorted toiletries were scattered around the bathroom counter. Thus far, I couldn’t see what Dharma was so concerned about. I hadn’t found anything that couldn’t easily be replaced with ten minutes and a hundred-dollar gift card to Fred Meyer.

  The nightstand was empty except for some cheap motel stationery, so I moved on to the dresser. I opened the top drawer and scooped out several pairs of clean socks, a bra, three pairs of white cotton underwear, and a light blue sleep shirt.

  The wooden box Dharma had mentioned occupied the bottom drawer. It was old, likely antique, and about ten inches long and six inches wide. Yellow daisies decorated the top; intricate carvings were etched on its sides. A tiny padlock was latched closed at the front. I gently shook the box left and right. The items inside made a muffled sound.

  Papers, maybe? Something wrapped in cloth?

  With my luck, it’s Dharma’s cocaine stash.

  I held it up to my nose and sniffed at the edge. Nothing but the scent of old cedar.

  I looked around for a key, but I couldn’t find one. I was about to try gently prying it open when a voice startled me from behind.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Goth Girl stood in the doorway wearing a long-sleeved black

  T-shirt and black jeans, just as she had on Saturday. Up close, she looked younger than I’d originally thought, perhaps as young as sixteen. The pale foundation covering her skin hid a proliferation of old acne scars. Her nails had been bitten to the quick, and a yellow stain between her second and third fingers hinted at a nicotine addiction.

  I almost couldn’t believe that this was the same girl I’d seen at the fun walk. When she’d released Blackie, she’d seemed bold, frustrated. Angry, even. Today, she looked vulnerable somehow. As if the dyed hair, makeup, and multiple piercings were shields—armor she wore to keep the world from seeing her true self.

  I held Dharma’s box to my chest and tried to look nonthreatening. “My name is Kate. Dharma is my … Dharma is a friend of mine. She asked me to pick up her belongings.”

  Goth Girl looked uneasy, like a feral kitten hoping for handouts but afraid of a trap. She took a single step toward me, then hesitated and took two steps back. “Is she okay? Everyone’s talking trash about her, saying that she killed Raven. But she was always good to me.”

  “I don’t think Dharma killed anyone, do you?”

  Goth Girl shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

  I should have been wary. Goth Girl was, after all, one of my suspects. She might be a murderer. Logically, I knew I should be careful, but at that moment, my biggest fear was that she would bolt.

  “You say Dharma was good to you. You might be able to help her.” I smiled, hoping to encourage her. “Why don’t you come inside and talk to me.”

  Goth Girl glanced furtively behind her. “I can’t talk to you. Eduardo won’t like it.”

  “Why not? Eduardo is Dharma’s friend too.” I sat down and patted the space on the bed next to me. “Please come in and sit down.”

  She took two cautious steps into the room. “Aren’t you that woman from the yoga studio? Eduardo said you and Dharma are related somehow.”

  “Yes, I’m her daughter.”

  Goth Girl shifted her weight back and forth and worried the edge of her thumb nail. “Raven said I should never talk to strangers alone. It isn’t safe.”

  Eduardo, and now Raven? This might be the first teenager on earth that actually paid attention to her elders. Still, their counsel made sense, for both of us.

  “That’s smart advice. Tell you what—let’s go to the lobby. There will be other people there, so we won’t be alone. I think they might have coffee.”

  I took her silence to mean assent. “Let me grab Dharma’s stuff.”

  I carefully wrapped Dharma’s wooden box with a shirt, placed it inside her suitcase, padded it with the rest of her clothes, and started to close the zipper.

  The door slammed shut behind me. When I whipped back around, Goth Girl was gone.

  Twelve

  Less th
an two hours after my failed interrogation of Goth Girl, Michael and I drove across the Ballard Bridge en route to our meeting with Maggie.

  “I know I promised not to second-guess you, Kate, but really? Talking to a murder suspect in a deserted motel room? Alone? Are you trying to get killed?”

  Michael spit out his questions in rapid-fire succession, leaving no opportunity for me to sneak in an answer. I sat back and observed him instead. He looked cute, in a wavy-haired Elmer Fudd kind of way. His hands gripped the steering wheel precisely at ten and two o’clock, as if by mastering the car he could somehow manage his out-of-control girlfriend.

  Good luck with that.

  “I know, Michael. Inviting her into the room was reckless. But in my defense, she confronted me, not vice versa. Honestly, I think she was more afraid of me than I was of her.”

  “That’s what hikers say about rattlesnakes right before they strike.”

  He had a point.

  “She didn’t strike, Michael. She bolted, before I got a single useful piece of information out of her.”

  “At least now we know that HEAT is still in Seattle.”

  “Some of them, anyway. They’re probably all staying at that same motel.” I paused. “I wonder why they haven’t gone back to California. Does that seem odd to you?”

  “Not really. The police might have asked them to stick around, or they may have other business in Seattle. For all we know, there’s some animal rights convention in town this week.”

  “I tried to get the guy at the front desk to give me their room numbers, but he wouldn’t talk to me, not even after I offered him twenty bucks. He said if I wanted him to snitch on his guests, I’d either need a court order or a heck of a lot more money.”

  “Have you tried calling John O’Connell?”

  “Yes, but he won’t tell me anything. I barely conned him into helping me get on Dharma’s visitors list. He said that he’d rather lock me up with her than help me get mixed up in another murder investigation.”

  I drummed my fingers on the dashboard. “I really want to interview Dharma’s friends. Do you think I should go back to the motel? I could dress up as a maid and knock on doors.”