Pre-Meditated Murder

by Tracy Weber

  I nodded. “And I can’t do that if I’m flailing around in the dark. Besides, if the police arrest Michael for murder, our relationship woes will be the least of his problems.”

  Shannon’s brow furrowed. “Fine. But when Michael gets pissed at me—and he will—I’m blaming you.” She picked up her wine glass and drained it. “I need more alcohol. Anyone else?”

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “Me too,” Rene replied. “I’m driving, so one is my limit.”

  Shannon returned a few seconds later, picked up a corn chip, and absently swirled it in green salsa. “It’s a long story. Before Michael moved to Seattle and met you, he lived in Cannon Beach and worked at Puppies in Paradise.”

  “Michael told me about that place,” I said. “It’s the local pet supply store, right?”

  Shannon nodded. “Yes, at least sort of. It sells more tourist trinkets than dog food.”

  “He told me that, too. That’s why he moved to Seattle and opened Pete’s Pets. He wanted to specialize in healthy pet supplies.”

  Shannon grunted. “What he really wanted was a fresh start. As long as he lived in Cannon Beach, he had to keep up the façade.”

  “Façade?” I asked.

  “I’m getting to that. Like I said, it’s a long story.” She abandoned the corn chip without eating it and took another long drink from her wine glass. “Michael’s pretty mellow since he started dating you, but he used to be quite the player. He and Von hit the bars every weekend.”

  I picked up the notebook and wrote down the name Von. “Von’s the guy you pointed out at the spaghetti dinner, right?”

  “Yes. Von Russo. He worked with Michael at Puppies in Paradise. They had this whole bromance thing going on. Anyway, one weekend Crystal, the owner of the hair salon upstairs, invited herself to join them. I think she was hoping that Michael would finally notice her.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Another question. Is that the same Crystal who was outside of the community center with Gabriella?”

  “That’s her. Her last name’s Buchanan.” I added her name to my list. Shannon continued. “Michael wasn’t interested in Crystal, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, either. So he asked me to go with them. I guess he thought I’d be some sort of romance buffer. Oddly enough, we all had a blast. We started going out every weekend. We called ourselves the Fearsome Foursome.”

  “So Michael ended up dating Crystal and you ended up with Von?”

  Shannon grinned. “Hardly. Von had a bigger crush on Michael than Crystal did. We were more like that TV show Friends. A group of singles who hung out together.”

  I didn’t point out that most of the characters in that series ended up sleeping together.

  “Anyway,” Shannon continued, “Cannon Beach rolls up the sidewalks pretty early, even on weekends, so we usually drove to Seaside and hit the tourist bars there. Gabriella waitressed at Sunbathers.”

  “Sunbathers?” I looked at her curiously.

  “The bar at the Sea Baron hotel. Michael and Gabby took one look at each other and fell into lust at first sight.”

  My throat tightened. “Lust? Michael and Gabriella were together? As a couple? I thought the marriage was a sham.” Bella must have noticed the change in my voice, because she stopped chewing and stared at me.

  Shannon cringed. “You didn’t know? Sure, the marriage was fake, but that didn’t mean …” Her face turned bright red. “Oh, criminy. I really should have let Michael tell you this.”

  Rene reached over Bella’s back and took my hand. Her eyes clearly telegraphed the words, I’m so sorry.

  I swallowed. Hard. “It’s okay. Please keep going.”

  “Michael and Gabby did date for a while, but not for very long. They were all hot and heavy for a month or two. Then the infatuation wore off, and they realized that sex was all they had in common. Their relationship quickly devolved from casual dating to friends with benefits. They were never in love. Not real love, anyway.”

  Michael wasn’t exactly my first lover. I’d held no illusions that I was his first, either. But the image of Michael having “benefits” with Gabriella made me want to go down to the morgue and revive her, just so I could bludgeon her all over again. “I still don’t understand how they ended up married.”

  Shannon sighed. “For the record, I was against it, and Michael knew it. I never liked Gabriella. She was a skilled manipulator, and she pulled Michael’s strings like a puppet master. He showed up at my house one night begging for a favor. He said Gabriella’s H-2B guest worker visa was about to expire and she was afraid to go back to Mexico.”

  “Afraid? Why?” I asked.

  “She claimed she’d come to the US to escape an abusive boyfriend.”

  I wrote the words “domestic violence” and “boyfriend” in my notebook. If Gabriella was a domestic violence survivor, her abuser might be a suspect.

  Shannon continued. “I doubt her sob story was true, but it worked. My idiot brother offered to marry her so she could stay in the States.”

  “He offered? The sham marriage was his idea?” The news surprised me.

  “So Michael claimed. I didn’t believe it for a second, though. Gabriella was a con artist. I’ll bet she started scamming to get that green card on their first date. Making Michael think it was his idea was simply part of her plan.”

  Rene interrupted. “You said Michael begged for your help. Why?”

  “To perpetuate the con. Michael and Gabby could fool the Cannon Beach locals easily enough; Gabby didn’t know anyone there other than Crystal and Von. But they needed family to fool the feds. Baby Brother knew I’d never believe their marriage was real, and he didn’t want our parents involved. He had no choice but to convince me to play along with the charade. I argued with him about it—a lot—but ultimately, I agreed.” She shrugged. “I can never say no to him.”

  Shannon drained her wine glass again, stared at the bottom, then set it on the end table. “The rest was simple. Gabriella and Michael had a small ceremony, got the paperwork in order, and moved into an apartment above the pet store. A few months later, Michael left Cannon Beach, and Gabby pretended to be the long-suffering wife, waiting for him to come home again. The truth was that they were biding time until Gabby got citizenship. As soon as that happened, they planned to get a quiet divorce.”

  Rene pushed her plate next to Shannon’s glass and leaned forward. “Here’s what I don’t get in all of this. You say Michael and Gabriella lived together for a few months before he moved to Seattle.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Wasn’t that three years ago?”

  Shannon frowned. “Almost. Does it matter?”

  “My husband, Sam, has been doing some research. Gabriella would have gotten her conditional green card when they married, and assuming they followed the appropriate procedures, she got a permanent one two years later. Why didn’t they divorce after that?”

  “She claimed she wouldn’t feel safe until she had citizenship, which realistically wouldn’t happen until they’d been married for four or five years,” Shannon explained. “Michael promised her that they’d stay married until then.” She shrugged. “Like I said, she was his puppet master.”

  I tapped the pen on the edge of my notebook and scanned what I’d written thus far. My eyes stopped at the words “domestic violence.” I flashed on the man skulking near the children’s play area. “Gabriella was afraid of someone back in Mexico?”

  “That’s what she told Michael.”

  “He mentioned that she seemed scared of something last night, too.”

  Rene cocked her head curiously. “What are you thinking, Kate?”

  “I saw this creepy guy hanging out near the children’s play area last night. He had his hat pulled low over his face, so I couldn’t see his features, but he had dark hair and dark skin. He could
have been Mexican. He sure disappeared fast when the police showed up.”

  “You think it’s her ex-boyfriend?” Rene asked. “Gabriella left Mexico over three years ago. Why would he show up now?”

  I wrote the words “camo hat” followed by a long line of question marks. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make much sense when I say it out loud, but it’s worth noting. Shannon, can you think of anything else she might have been afraid of ?”

  “How would I know? I avoided Gabriella back when she lived with Michael. We certainly didn’t stay in contact after he left.”

  I would have continued quizzing her, but I was interrupted by the sound of tires crunching on gravel. Bella abandoned her spot on the couch and trotted to the front door. Shannon and I ran to peer through the window next to it. An exhausted-looking Michael climbed out of a white SUV and staggered to the door. When he walked through it, he absently reached down and rubbed Bella’s ears. Shannon gave him a hug.

  I touched his hand. “Who brought you home?”

  “A lawyer. Some friend of Dale’s.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I asked the question anyway. “How did it go?”

  “Not good. The body was Gabriella.” His chin trembled. “Kate, the police … they think I did it.”

  I pulled out my cell phone. “I’m calling Dale.”

  “No need. I talked to him before we left Seaside. Dale’s coming tomorrow.”

  nine

  I desperately wanted to quiz Michael about what had happened with the police, but he begged off, claiming that Dale had ordered him not to answer questions from anyone—including me—unless he or his attorney friend were present. It was probably for the best. Michael was so exhausted, he could barely remain standing. He’d never have withstood the barrage of questions Shannon, Rene, and I would have thrown at him. But that didn’t mean that I liked it.

  Dale planned to catch the early morning ferry off Orcas Island the next day and then drive from the ferry terminal directly to Shannon’s house in Manzanita. Barring traffic issues, he’d arrive around four in the afternoon. Michael asked for some alone time until then, which meant he’d have almost sixteen hours to sleep and gather his thoughts. Sixteen hours during which I could have sleuthed out more information to help with his defense.

  Could have, but wouldn’t.

  Dale had also told Michael that I shouldn’t do any sleuthing until he arrived and assessed Michael’s situation. He was afraid that I might inadvertently do or say something to compromise Michael’s case. I hated to admit it, but he might very well have been right.

  So I reluctantly gave Michael his coveted space and agreed to return to Shannon’s at around three-thirty the next afternoon. The bright side to Michael’s dilemma—if there was a bright side—was that I would get to spend some unanticipated time with Dale, Dharma, and Bandit (their precocious Jack Russell terrier). In the meantime, I vowed to write down everything I knew about Gabriella’s murder, and then get some sleep myself.

  It seemed like a reasonable enough plan.

  Documenting what I knew about Gabriella’s life and subsequent death took all of five minutes, which made sense, since I knew essentially nothing. By the time I’d finished adding to and reviewing my notes, I had a grand total of one suspect: the suspicious-looking, camo-cap-wearing stranger I’d seen skulking outside of the community center. I sighed and tossed the notebook on the nightstand. Suspicious or not, the stranger was a weak suspect at best. Whatever he’d been up to, it likely had nothing to do with Gabriella.

  So much for my supersleuth superpowers.

  Likewise, sleep proved elusive. A trickster, tiptoeing close to my grasp, then scampering out of reach. I stared at the ceiling until two, then crawled out of bed and tried a short yoga practice designed to promote relaxation. At three, I got up and helped Sam soothe his fussing children. At four, I practiced Kate’s Sleeping Pill, my favorite breath practice for insomnia. At five, I attempted to quiet my mind through meditation. Nothing worked. My mind raced on anxiety’s squeaky hamster wheel. Louder, even, than the ear-piercing screams of unhappy infants.

  I got up for good at six and helped Sam for another hour, then called and woke Tiffany to ask how the studio was doing. When I hung up the phone, I felt worse than I had before. The studio was fine—thriving, even. Tiffany was not. Michael had called to warn her that he might be gone longer than anticipated. She was worried about him, feeling guilty about telling the police where to find him, frantic about what to do with Pete’s Pets if he got arrested, and bursting with reasonable questions I wasn’t allowed to answer.

  By the time Rene tottered down the staircase at nine, I’d progressed well beyond stir-crazy to practically crawling out of my skin. I paced back and forth across the living room, which provided the perfect hunting game for Ricky and Lucy. They stalked me like kittens wearing curly-haired dog costumes. They dive-bombed my feet. They tugged on my shoelaces. They growled, punctured my ankles with needle-sharp canines, and pinned my shoes to the floor.

  “Ouch! Knock it off, Lucy!” Cranky from lack of sleep, I snarked at Sam, who was in the kitchen making Rene’s breakfast smoothie. “What’s up with the shark attack, Sam? I thought you were training these little monsters to stop shoe diving.”

  Sam sounded pretty cranky himself. “I’m trying, but you’re not helping. Stomping back and forth like a human dog toy just encourages them. Stand still until they lose interest.”

  Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  I ignored his advice and started pacing again, resigned to wearing fur-covered ankle weights. Bella snoozed next to the fireplace in post-breakfast bliss, grateful that she wasn’t the object of the fur balls’ torture.

  “Sam, stop arguing with Kate and come grab Amelia,” Rene said. “She’s getting squirmy.”

  Sam turned off the blender, poured a chunky, disgusting-looking beige concoction into a glass, and took it to Rene. He plucked the brunette infant off Rene’s breast with one hand and handed her the glass with the other.

  She held it up to the light and suspiciously tipped it left to right. “What is this?”

  “A peanut butter apple oatmeal lactation smoothie. Stop eyeballing it and drink it.”

  “Well, aren’t you a grumpy crab bucket?” Rene lifted the glass to her lips, took a tentative sip, and handed it back to him. “Not enough peanut butter.” She narrowed her eyes and peered at her husband. “You look as awful as Kate does. What did you two do last night, go out partying without me?”

  “Hardly. The twins fussed all night,” he replied.

  “Is it too early for them to be teething?” I asked.

  Rene shrugged. “They’re only three months old, and teething usually starts at six months. It’s unusual, but not impossible.”

  “Well, something was up with them last night,” Sam grumped. “I barely got two hours of sleep. Honestly, Rene, I don’t know how you slept through it.”

  “It must be the ocean air. I haven’t slept this well in months!” Rene arched her back into a deep stretch. “I feel great.” She paused. “But honey, if the girls fuss again tonight, wake me. Parenting is a team sport, remember?”

  Mollified, Sam carried the rejected smoothie back to the kitchen, poured it into the blender, and added three heaping tablespoons of peanut butter. Once the blender was whirring again, he placed Amelia in the crib and extracted Alice from Rene’s other breast.

  I shook my head, bewildered. “I don’t know how you do that.”

  “Do what?” Rene asked.

  “Breastfeed both twins at the same time.”

  “It’s easy, once you figure out the balancing act. It’s all in the pillows.” Rene stood, reached up her arms, and stretched side to side. Sam returned to the kitchen and spooned the now browner, thicker brew into the glass. Rene added a huge dollop of honey, stirred, and took a deep drink. She sighed “Perf
ect.”

  Momentary distraction over, I recommenced pacing. The puppies abandoned my shoelaces and attacked Bella. Lucy, the gold one, pulled at her ear; Ricky pounced on her head. Bella leaped to her feet in a flurry of teeth, fur, and vicious-sounding vocalizations. Her teeth snapped a half inch from Ricky’s nose. She pinned Lucy with her paws. The puppies screamed as if being slaughtered. With any other dogs, I would have scrambled into the fray. Then again, I wouldn’t have let any other dogs get within five feet of Bella.

  In this case, no intervention was necessary. Bella was teaching the pups, not traumatizing them. She loved Ricky and Lucy as if they were her own puppies, which in a way, they were. She’d raised them from when they were six weeks old. Five seconds after the scolding began, the puppies scampered off to the bedroom, completely unscathed. Bella dropped back to the floor, rested her head on her paws, and went back to sleep.

  “You tell ’em, Bella,” Rene said. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to the couch. “Sit down already. You’re wearing a canyon in the floor with all of that pacing.” She yelled to Sam, “Honey, why don’t you make Kate a smoothie? Be sure to blend in a Valium or two.”

  Sam peaked from the kitchen. “You want something, Kate?”

  “No thanks. I can’t eat.” He nodded and disappeared again.

  I obeyed Rene’s command and flopped on the couch. “This waiting around for Dale is killing me. I can’t just sit here. I should be doing something to help Michael.”

  “Then why aren’t you?” Rene asked. “It’s not like you to be so obedient.”

  “I’m not being obedient, or at least not just being obedient. I’m being smart. I already screwed up once. Until Dale arrives and gives me some guidance, I can’t risk making things worse.”

  “Well, all of this pacing is driving you to Bonkersville, and you’re taking Sam and me with you.” Rene set her glass on the end table with a decided thunk. “You know what they say …”

  I internally cringed, but I asked anyway. “What’s that?”

  She flashed me a lopsided grin. “When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. We’re heading to town.”