Karma's a Killer

by Tracy Weber

  “I can’t believe I let you talk to me into this. Why, again, are we sitting outside the motel Dharma stayed in?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Rene ticked off each point on her fingertips. “One. We think Eduardo is staying here, and we know he’s up to no good. He’s for sure a car prowler. He might be an arsonist and a murderer. Two. You can’t talk to the police about Eduardo without exposing Tiffany, and Michael asked you not to do that. Three. You can’t get any intel on Eduardo from Dharma without potentially incriminating her, and Dale forbade that. Dale and Michael have left us no choice. We have to corner Eduardo and interrogate him ourselves.”

  I held up my hands. “Whoa, there. Back the truck up, Rene. I agreed to stake out Eduardo, not interrogate him. I’m not putting any of us, especially the twins, in that kind of danger. Even if Eduardo isn’t the arsonist—and I don’t think he is—he’s still a criminal.”

  Rene sighed dramatically. “Who said anything about putting anyone in danger? We’ll watch Eduardo and follow him. He’s bound to go somewhere public eventually. We’ll trap him there.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. No way. We’re not trapping anyone.”

  Rene flicked her hand dismissively through the air. “Fine, then. Be that way. We’ll tail him and see who he hangs out with. Maybe we can sniff out some leads that Dale can follow up on.” She pointed to the still-begging shepherd in the back seat. “If Eduardo sees us and tries to get smart, we’ll toss a couple of chips at him and let Bella chase down her dinner.”

  As plans went, it wasn’t my favorite, but it wasn’t completely out of the question, either. I had a feeling that Michael wouldn’t approve of Rene’s and my newest adventure, but luckily I wouldn’t have to tell him about it until it was too late for him to stop us. Besides, I didn’t know for sure that Eduardo was still in Seattle, much less staying at this motel. At the very least, a stakeout would entertain Rene until she lost interest and decided to go out for pizza.

  “I still think we should have brought your Prius,” I said. “Parking in front of the motel entrance in a red Camaro isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

  “I told you, no dog hair in my car. The sun won’t set for two more hours, and this spot is the last one left in the shade. Do you want Bella and me to fry? Besides, this is practically camouflage. After seeing your junk mobile, Eduardo will never expect to find you in a hot sports car.” Rene wiggled and scrunched up her face.

  I gave her a droll look. “Now what?”

  “Darn it, I have to pee again. One of these girls is always kicking my bladder.”

  I handed her the thermos. “Here, use this.”

  “Very funny.” She squirmed again. “Sorry, Kate, I can’t sit here anymore.”

  Which was precisely the cue I’d been waiting for. I put the key in the ignition. “No problem, I’ll drive us home.”

  Rene reached over and pulled the key back out. “Not on your life.” She pointed across the street to Mary Jane Mocha, one of the new combination espresso bar/marijuana clubs that had sprouted up when pot was legalized in Washington State. “I’ll use their bathroom and pick up some pastries. I can’t have any green brownies because of the girls, but you can. You could certainly use a little mellowing.” She tossed the keys in her handbag. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  I grabbed her arm before she could open the car door. “I told you before, Rene, I don’t do drugs. And I’m not about to start when I’m driving.”

  Rene shook off my hand and rolled her eyes. “I’m teasing, Miss Grumpy Pants. Geez, you really do need to mellow out. I’ll bring you back a latte. Decaf.”

  She heaved her body out of the passenger seat and waddled across Aurora Avenue. She stopped next to the spiky green leaf painted on the café’s entrance, smiled, and wiggled her fingers at me before disappearing inside the dark, dingy storefront.

  “What you think, Bella? Will we ever see her again?” Bella pressed her nose against the passenger-side window and drooled, whether in concern over Rene’s departure or anticipation of what she might bring back, I wasn’t entirely sure. I covered both contingencies. “If you’re worried about Rene, she’ll be fine. But if you think I’m letting you have any green dog cookies, you are sorely mistaken.”

  Bella stretched her body across the entire length of the back seat, placed her head between her paws, and sighed. I rolled down the window two inches, covered up with my sweater, and briefly closed my eyes. As surveillance went, it wasn’t exactly a Sam Spade moment, but if Eduardo showed up now, I’d be hosed anyway. I wasn’t about to drive off chasing a suspect while Rene was patronizing a glorified drug dealer, newly legal or not. Especially since she had the car keys.

  I must have dozed off for a moment, because a knock on the driver’s-side window startled me awake. Bella roared and hurled herself at the window, leaving a slug trail of saliva dripping down the Camaro’s interior.

  Goth Girl smiled on the other side, not seeming frightened of Bella in the slightest. She motioned for me to roll the window down farther.

  I grumbled at my self-appointed security guard. “Bella, leave it. She’s okay.” At least I think she is.

  Bella seemed to believe me. She sat and stared at Goth Girl curiously.

  I rolled the window down the rest of the way. “Geez! You scared me half to death!”

  Goth Girl flashed a shy smile. “I saw you sitting out here and wanted to say ‘nice car.’ Sorry I took off the other day. Eduardo pulled into the parking lot, and I was afraid he’d get mad if he saw me talking to you.”

  That was the second time this tentative young woman had mentioned being afraid of Eduardo. Whatever magical hold Eduardo had over women, I was beginning to think it might be abusive. I tried to inconspicuously look for bruises or other signs of domestic violence, but Goth Girl’s arms and legs were both covered—completely in black again. Come to think of it, they’d been covered the other two times I’d seen her as well.

  Goth Girl reached her fingers through the opened window and allowed Bella to sniff them.

  “Your dog is gorgeous. Can I say hi to her?”

  My cover, if I’d ever had one, had obviously been blown, so I figured why not? Bella could always use more human friends, and Goth Girl seemed to like her. Bella’s presence might make the young woman relax enough to answer a few questions. Like, Do you know who killed Raven? and Can I give you a ride to a battered women’s shelter?

  “I’ll let Bella out of the car, but step back from the door until I make sure she’s calm enough to approach. She’s not always friendly.”

  I clipped on Bella’s leash and opened the door. Bella hopped out beside me and wiggled toward Goth Girl, ears at half-mast, body lowered in an I-am-a-cute-and-friendly-dog position. She slowly swished her tail.

  “Bella, say hello.”

  As taught, Bella went into a perfect sit and offered Goth Girl her paw.

  The young woman’s entire face lit up in a smile. She wrapped her fingers around Bella’s paw and gave it a tentative shake. “She’s so pretty.” She briefly made eye contact, then looked back at the ground. “I know Raven said owning pets is slavery, but I like dogs.” She blushed underneath her pale makeup. “I might get one of my own someday.”

  Just the conversation starter I was hoping for.

  “Did you know Raven very well?” I asked.

  She didn’t get the chance to answer. A stern voice yelled from the sidewalk. “Marla! Who are you talking to?”

  The young woman jumped and looked over her shoulder.

  Eduardo strode across the parking lot, carrying what appeared to be an extra-large bag of pastries. Rene waddled beside him. He dropped the bag and charged toward us.

  Uh oh.

  Goth Girl cringed. “He’s going to be mad.”

  Not nearly as mad as Bella.

  Even on happy pills, Bella took one look at her w
ould-be abductor and exploded. She lunged, she barked, she growled, she foamed. She yanked so hard on the leash that I fell to the ground behind her, but I held on.

  Barely.

  Eduardo staggered back, swearing. I grabbed Bella’s collar with both hands, pulled myself to my feet, and glared at the cowering car prowler.

  “Bella, sit.”

  Bella obeyed, but with obvious objections. Her upper lip lifted, exposing a mouth full of sparkling white, pants-ripping teeth. Her body leaned forward. A long line of drool oozed from her jaw. She leveled Eduardo a laser-like stare. Its meaning was obvious: One false move and I’m taking you out.

  I glared at Eduardo, then gestured to the huge, snarling protector-dog with my eyes. “I believe you two have already met.”

  Eduardo ignored me and grabbed Goth Girl’s arm. “Marla, stay away from that vicious dog.”

  Bella lunged toward him again and snapped at the air. He released the young woman and stumbled several steps back.

  Goth Girl, whose name was evidently Marla, looked back and forth between the three of us, confused. “But Eduardo, Bella is nice! And this is that lady from the yoga studio. You know, the one that’s related to Dharma.”

  Rene finally race-waddled her way up to us. She pointed at the porcupine-like guard hairs standing at high alert along Bella’s spine. “What’s got Bella so worked up?” She looked at Eduardo. “And why did you throw my scones on the ground?”

  “Rene, what are you doing?” I asked.

  She held the paper bag Eduardo had dropped in one hand and what appeared to be two iced lattes in the other. “I couldn’t go into the marijuana café to use their bathroom without a state membership card, so I went next door and got scones and coffee for later. This nice man offered to carry them for me.” She paused, suddenly clueing in on the scene unfolding before her. “Wait a minute. Are you Eduardo?”

  Eduardo spoke in a growl almost as frightening as Bella’s. “What in the hell is going on here?”

  I opened my mouth to blather an explanation—any explanation—that would give us enough time to escape, but Rene beat me to it. She shoved the pastry bag in Eduardo’s face and shouldered her way between us.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on, mister. We’re here to talk about murder.”

  I’d figure out how to properly punish Rene later. In the meantime, the five of us—Eduardo, Goth Girl, Rene, Bella, and I—sat in uncomfortable silence at a rickety picnic table next to Mary Jane Mocha. Quasi-public location or not, I didn’t share Rene’s delusions of safety. If Eduardo attacked us, the patrons at the marijuana café would probably be too stoned to care, much less intervene. Still, the bakery’s outdoor seating area was the closest public location I could think of that would allow Bella, and there was no way I was willing to hang out with a potential murderer without her.

  So here we sat.

  I’d conned Eduardo into talking to us by simultaneously assuring and threatening him. I assured him that the murder Rene referred to was going to be his if he didn’t pay for my shattered car window. I threatened to turn him in to the police if he didn’t tell me why he’d gone after my Honda in the first place.

  Bella stared at Eduardo, never breaking eye contact, as if daring him to make a false move. Eduardo glared back at her from the opposite end of the table, well out of striking range.

  “Keep that vicious animal tied up tight. It’s obviously gone crazy from being cooped up in your car.”

  I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know. “Did she bite you?”

  “No, but you should have seen how it ripped up my pants. That thing ought to be wearing a muzzle.”

  I half expected Marla—aka Goth Girl—to stick up for Bella, but she seemed strangely withdrawn from the conversation. She cradled her knees to her chest and almost folded into herself, as if given the opportunity, she would completely disappear. She picked at her thumb nail and stared at the table, rocking back and forth.

  I continued admonishing Eduardo. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt, but it wouldn’t have been Bella’s fault if you had been. She had every right to defend herself and her property.” I leaned forward. “There’s no sense in lying about my car. Tiffany confessed, and I have both of you on tape.” I pointed to the bandage on his forearm. “I even saw how you got that cut on your wrist. Now tell me, why did you target my car?”

  Eduardo frowned. “I didn’t. That pet store chick did. I met her on Saturday at Green Lake. She seemed interested in HEAT, so I decided to drop by the store and invite her to join us. I figured having a member with pet store experience would be helpful, PR-wise.”

  He absently scratched the side of his chin. “When I pulled into the garage, I saw your dog trapped in that dented old Honda. I mentioned it to the pet store chick—Tiffany, you say her name is?—and she told me she knew the dog and that its owner was a real bi—”

  I gave him a dirty look.

  “Fine. You’re an angel. She asked me to help her rescue it.” He pointed at Bella. “Keeping a dog—even that one—locked up in a car is shameful, dangerous, even. It could suffocate. If anyone should call the police, it’s me.”

  “Nice try, buddy. The windows were partially open and there’s no sun in that garage. It’s downright chilly today, but even on warm days, Bella’s cooler there than in my house.”

  “Still, keeping a dog locked up in a car all day? You’re torturing her. It’s no wonder she’s so vicious.”

  Bella, the supposedly tortured one, lifted her lips at Eduardo and showed him her teeth.

  “She’s not locked in there for long. I take her for a walk every couple of hours. And she’s not vicious. She’s pissed at you for trying to kidnap her. Where were you planning to take her?”

  “I told you, I don’t know. It was the pet store chick’s idea.”

  I leaned back and peered at Eduardo, trying to decipher whether or not he was telling the truth. The pettiest part of me wanted to believe that Tiffany was responsible—not just for my car damage, but for everything else bad in the world. War, famine, and pestilence included. And Eduardo’s explanation made sense, if you were looking at Bella’s situation from his warped perspective. Still, his story didn’t jibe, not completely. It certainly didn’t match up with the video.

  Rene pointed at Eduardo’s outfit. “You’re one to talk about harming animals, sitting there all comfy cozy in your leather jacket and boots. Hypocritical lately?”

  Goth Girl recovered the ability to speak. “They’re not leather, they’re pleather. It only looks like leather. Not one animal was harmed to make that jacket. Eduardo gave me one on my birthday. It’s in our room.”

  “Shut up, Marla,” Eduardo said.

  My stomach lurched. “Your room? As in the room the two of you share?” I gaped at Eduardo, disgusted. “You certainly get around, buddy. Three women, all who knew each other, all at the same time? Frankly, I don’t understand why you weren’t the one murdered.” I gestured with my thumb to Goth Girl. “This one doesn’t even look eighteen.”

  Rene agreed. “You’re handsome, I’ll grant you that, but no one is that handsome. What do all of these women see in you?”

  Goth Girl interrupted. “Wait a minute … you two think … gross! I’m not sleeping with Eduardo. He’s my brother!”

  Her brother?

  The puzzle pieces finally all fell into place. Eduardo wasn’t an abusive lover; he was an overbearing family member.

  Rene’s eyes darted back and forth between the two siblings. One tall, dark, apparently of Hispanic descent. The other petite and pale, about fifteen years his junior. “You two are brother and sister? But you don’t look anything alike!” She placed her hands on her belly and stared at it with a dazed expression. “You mean the twins might not look related?”

  Coming from anyone else, the question would have sounded

  absurd, especially giv
en the circumstances. But to Rene, the insight was huge. It added a whole new layer of complication to the baby-accessorizing dilemma.

  Eduardo sneered. “We’re half siblings, you nitwit. Same mother, different fathers. I was conceived in Mom’s drug-runner phase. Marla was born after she turned white supremacist. Our fathers were both real charmers.”

  The diversion was interesting, but not relevant. I cycled back to my damaged car.

  “Here’s the thing, Eduardo. Like I said before: your and Tiffany’s little escapade was caught on video, and I watched it. Your story doesn’t make sense. If the whole thing was Tiffany’s doing, why did she try to stop you? And if you were breaking in to free Bella, why did you pop open the trunk?”

  Eduardo’s body language remained carefully neutral.

  Marla’s, however, did not. Her hands drummed a staccato rhythm against the table. Her feet tapped the ground. Only her eyes remained motionless, glued to the table’s surface, as if her mind were trapped somewhere inside the dense rings of wood.

  “You must have been planning to steal something,” I continued, “but what? My car is a beater. Why target it out of all of the other, nicer ones in the lot?”

  “I already told you, the whole thing was the pet store chick’s idea. I didn’t even know what kind of car you drove.”

  Marla finally looked up. When she spoke, her voice quavered.

  “Yes you did. I showed it to you when she picked up Dharma’s stuff.”

  My skin tingled. Dharma’s belongings.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” I replied. “You weren’t searching for something of mine, you wanted something of Dharma’s. You’re the one who broke into my house, too. How did you know where I lived? Did Dharma tell you about me?”

  Eduardo’s complexion paled.

  “I don’t get it, though,” I continued. “I’ve been through every stitch of Dharma’s clothing. I even snooped through her makeup. I read every letter. I didn’t find a single thing that would matter to anyone other than me. What did you think Dharma had hidden in that motel room?”