Pre-Meditated Murder

by Tracy Weber

  Which is how, forty-five minutes later, Bella, Rene, the twins, and I found ourselves hoofing it down S. Hemlock Street, Cannon Beach’s main drag. Sam stayed at the beach house to take a much-needed nap with the puppies. Rene carried the twins in their tandem baby carrier with Amelia nestled against her chest and Alice against her back.

  Two days before the Sandcastle Festival, the town was already teeming with tourists, many of whom had traveled a great distance to see the renowned competition. I recognized a few locals as well: the woman who’d been selling raffle tickets at the spaghetti dinner; the banjo player from the bluegrass band; one of the teenagers—the girl—who’d been making out in the parking lot.

  If I’d been visiting Cannon Beach for another reason—any other reason—than to distract my mind from murder, I would have been enchanted. Playful orange nasturtiums, dark purple petunias, and deep red geraniums burst from containers. The colors were so vibrant, I could almost delude myself that it was late spring, not early fall. Bustling storefronts offered anything I could want in a vacation destination: organic bakeries, art galleries, designer clothing stores, wine shops. There was even a private label distillery that advertised hourly vodka tastings.

  None of it mattered. All I wanted was to leave so I could start clearing Michael.

  Bella immersed herself in new scents while Rene tried to distract me with mindless prattle. “You know, this business with Gabriella isn’t all bad.”

  “Which part? The part where she was married to my boyfriend or the part where she’s dead?”

  “The murder, of course,” Rene replied, sounding unaccountably glib. “Now that Michael’s a widower, he’s free to marry you!”

  I groaned.

  Rene flinched, uncharacteristically chagrined. “That was a dumb thing to say, wasn’t it?”

  I didn’t reply.

  In her own, admittedly perverse way, Rene had been trying to make me feel better. But her words weighted my shoulders like a wet wool raincoat. Michael’s newfound freedom gave him more motive.

  We turned right at a stone fountain and entered a courtyard. Zoey, the mother of the rampaging toddler, slumped at an outdoor table, reading a romance novel and sipping stimulants from a white paper cup. Jimmy ran in circles around her, a bright red balloon attached to his wrist. She slowly wiggled her fingers at me and smiled.

  I would have waved back, but Rene abruptly stopped walking, causing me to collide with her back. “Ouch!” I yelled.

  Alice screwed up her face and burst into tears.

  “Sorry,” I cooed to the gorgeous, unhappy infant. “Your mom needs brake lights. Rene, be careful with the sudden stops. You’re going to give the twins whiplash and me a concussion.”

  Rene ignored me and pointed at a sign. Puppies in Paradise. “Isn’t this the place Shannon mentioned last night? The one Michael used to work at?”

  “Yes …”

  Rene grabbed Bella’s leash and reached for the door handle. “We’re going in.”

  I gripped her arm. “No way, Rene. I told you: Dale said not to snoop around until he gets here, and I’m listening to him. I’ve already done enough damage.”

  Rene rolled her eyes. “Who said anything about snooping? It’s a pet food store. Bella needs a cookie.”

  Before I could stop her, she pulled open the single glass door. Bella (whose favorite word was cookie) charged through it, dragging Rene and the babies inside. The gentle woof woof of an electronic motion sensor announced their arrival.

  Dogs. A pet store. Oh no!

  Visions of saliva-covered fur, shattered glass, and visits with stern animal control officers crashed through my mind. Bella had never harmed another dog, but that wouldn’t stop her from causing a ruckus. “Rene, wait! There might be dogs inside!” I pushed through the door behind them.

  I needn’t have worried. The small retail space was empty, except for a man holding a phone to his ear with one hand and typing at a computer with the other. I recognized his dark beard and sultry, chocolate eyes.

  Von.

  He smiled up from his phone conversation, held up an index finger, and mouthed the words one minute.

  “That’s Michael’s friend Von,” I whispered.

  “Wow! He’s gorgeous,” Rene replied, a little louder than I would have preferred.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Rene,” I grumbled. “Remember what Shannon said last night. He’s gay. Your feminine wiles won’t work on him.”

  Rene sighed. “The cute ones always are.” She shrugged. “You’ll have to interrogate him then.”

  Part of me—the intelligent part—wanted to grab my dog and tear back out the door, but the sleuth inside of me couldn’t. I leaned toward Rene and whispered, “No one’s interrogating him. We’ll just look around the store. Behave yourself and find Bella that cookie you promised her.”

  Rene gave me a lopsided grin. The kind that grade school boys flash when they’re about to do something naughty. “Behave myself ? Don’t I always?”

  “I mean it,” I growled.

  She handed me Bella’s leash and wandered to a display of pet toys. I took in the rest of the small space. It was even more of a tourist trap than I’d imagined. A tourist trap masquerading as pet food store.

  I’d obviously been spoiled by Pete’s Pets. When I’d first fostered Bella, I’d been shocked at the sheer number of items owners could purchase for their companion animals. A dozen different cat litters, toys by the thousands, and racks upon racks of pet foods ranging from kibbled to canned to dehydrated to sausage-like ready-to-cut rolls. I’d been as frozen as the raw foods stocked in the store’s freezers. Without Michael’s guidance, Bella would have starved long before I figured out which food to purchase.

  No such dilemma here.

  Puppies in Paradise was overwhelming, but in a completely different way. The store’s tiny selection of pet food was tucked away in a small, dark side room, like an unseemly stepchild they hoped to hide from the neighbors. What the store lacked in basics, however, it made up for in the superfluous. One corner held an upscale assortment of stuffed toys, colorful tennis balls, and a selection of individually priced dog cookies. The sign on the shelf declared Fresh Baked Daily on Cannon Beach!

  Bella took one whiff of the bone-shaped morsels and dragged me toward them, clearly on a mission to search and devour. I picked one up, gasped at the five-dollar price tag, and quickly put it back. “Maybe next time.” Bella chided me with mournful, deep brown eyes, but allowed me to drag her to the next display: a selection of waterproof jackets, knit sweaters, and all-weather coats that no self-respecting German shepherd would ever be caught dead in.

  The most valuable shelf space was dedicated to Rover’s owner. Magnets proclaiming everything from You Had Me at Woof! to Back Seat Barker decorated a revolving display. Underneath them, pet-themed doormats implored guests to Wipe Your Paws and Ring Doorbell and Run. I grinned. That one might have to be mine.

  I’d almost convinced myself to buy it when Von hung up the phone and moved in my direction. I wrapped Bella’s leash around my wrist and gave her the “down” command. Miraculously, she complied.

  A huge, hairy smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “What a gorgeous dog! Can I give her a treat?”

  “She doesn’t like men with beards,” I replied. “You probably shouldn’t get within striking distance.”

  “Really?” he replied. “Could have fooled me.”

  Bella whined, thumped her tail against the floor, and crawl-walked toward him. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Those must be some pretty amazing treats. Okay, Bella, up!”

  Bella leaped to her feet and nudged her new friend’s hands.

  “Just give her a little one. She has a digestive disease. She’ll get sick if she eats too much food without added enzymes.”

  Von cocked his head toward Bella. “This dog has EPI?”
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  I nodded, surprised. “Not many people know about it.”

  “A pit bull with EPI comes in here sometimes. He’s a lot skinnier than your dog, though. She looks fantastic!” He pocketed the treat in his hand. “Hang on, I’ve got something special.” He went back to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sandwich bag filled with dark green hearts. “These are from my private stash. Bubble’s owner says EPI dogs shouldn’t have grain. We don’t sell any grain-free treats here, so I buy these in Seaside.” He put an index finger up to his lips. “Shh … don’t tell my boss. She’d pop an aneurism if she knew I was supporting the competition. But I think Bubbles deserves a goodie or two when he visits, don’t you?”

  I grinned. I could see why Michael had been friends with this man.

  Von kneeled next to Bella and held out his fist. His shirtsleeve lifted, exposing a large bandage. He must have noticed my stare, because he said, “My newest war wound, courtesy of a twelve-week-old puppy that came in this morning.”

  “Yikes.”

  He shrugged. “Puppy teeth. Occupational hazard.” He turned back to Bella and opened his fist. Bella snarfed up the green goodie with one quick swipe of her long, black-spotted tongue, then nudged the plastic bag, clearly asking for seconds.

  Von ruffled her ears and smiled up at me. “One more?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Bella inhaled the second treat, then expressed her gratitude by nibbling Von’s beard. He gave her a final, friendly pat and then stood and addressed me. “Can I help you find anything?”

  I grabbed the doormat. “Bella’s not great with other dogs, so I shouldn’t press my luck. I’ll buy this and get going.”

  Rene and the babies appeared behind me at the checkout counter. She tossed one of the five-dollar dog biscuits on top of the mat. “Bella says to get this, too.” I would have argued with her, but I was distracted by the package she held in her hand: a four-pack of tiny, light pink doggie tennis shoes.

  “These are adorable,” Rene said to Von, “but you only have one set in extra-extra small. I need two, preferably one pink and one blue.” She eyed him expectantly. “You know, because I have two dogs.”

  “Sorry, all of our stock is out.”

  Rene flashed Von an innocent smile filled with perfectly straight, ultra-white teeth. The smile of a reality TV host, and almost as genuine. “Can you please check for me, just in case?”

  He shrugged and disappeared through a door marked Employees Only.

  I narrowed my eyes at Rene and whispered, “What are you up to? Even if you managed to survive putting sneakers on Ricky and Lucy with your hands still attached, those are two sizes too small!”

  “I needed to get rid of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous for a minute. Are you seriously going to leave the shop without asking him any questions?”

  “I told you. No sleuthing until I talk to Dale.”

  “You didn’t have any qualms about digging around in Michael’s past last night.”

  “Talking with Michael’s sister is one thing. Chatting up a total stranger is completely different.”

  Rene would have hounded me further, but she didn’t get the chance. Von emerged from the back room, shaking his head. “Sorry, like I said, all of our stock is out. If you’ll still be in town next week, I might be able to special order a second pair.”

  “Bummer. We’re leaving after the Sandcastle Festival.” Rene affected disappointment, but her scheming, beady little eyes sparkled. I had to get her out of this store. Pronto.

  I slid the doormat and cookie across the desk. “We’ll take these and get out of your hair.”

  Rene pushed them aside. “Kate and I were going to vacation here longer, but not now. Not with a killer on the loose.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “A woman was murdered on the beach yesterday.”

  The energy between Von and us shifted. His face darkened. His jaw hardened. For a moment, I thought he was going ask us to leave. But he didn’t. The storm cloud vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. So quickly, I might have imagined it.

  “Believe me, I know,” he said. “The murder is all anyone’s been talking about. It didn’t happen yesterday. It was the night before.”

  Dale’s grumpy voice screamed through my psyche, Retreat! But now that Rene had started this conversation, I couldn’t figure out how to stop it. To be completely honest, I didn’t want to. How much trouble could I cause if I limited myself to listening?

  “She was killed Tuesday night? How do you know that?” Rene asked.

  “The police told me. They’ve been interviewing everyone who knew her.”

  “You knew her?” The words popped out before I could stop them. I knew Von was acquainted with Gabriella, of course. He’d been Michael’s friend. But I couldn’t help but jump at such an obvious opportunity to extract more information.

  “She was married to a friend of mine.”

  The shock in Rene’s eyes seemed so genuine, she almost convinced me. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. How terrible. For both you and your friend.” She lowered her voice again. “Do you think it was a stalker? I heard she was a famous model. They can attract all kinds of crazies.”

  Confusion spread across Von’s face. “Gabby? A model? Where did you hear that? As far as I knew, she was a waitress.” He frowned to the side. “She was attractive enough to model, I suppose. I didn’t know her all that well.”

  I spoke again. “I thought she was a friend of yours.”

  Von shook his head adamantly. “I didn’t say that. I said she was married to a friend of mine.”

  An interesting distinction. Perhaps Von hadn’t approved of Gabriella any more than Shannon had. I kept pressing. “You didn’t like her?”

  Von hesitated again. He picked up the dog cookie and scanned its code into the register. “I didn’t get a chance to like her. Michael had only been dating her for a couple of months when they got married.” His expression grew bitter. “I thought he was smarter than that.”

  Rene gave him a wry smile. “I hope you didn’t volunteer that opinion to your friend.”

  Von’s cheeks reddened. “Actually, I did.”

  “Ooh … not bright.” Rene wagged her finger. “Never tell a friend that you don’t approve of his marriage.”

  “No kidding. I apologized later, but it wasn’t enough. Michael basically stopped speaking to me.”

  Rene seemed to be connecting with Von, so I faded into the background and let her continue to lead the conversation.

  “One ill-conceived comment ended your friendship?” she asked.

  “Yes, which surprised me. It wasn’t at all like Michael to hold a grudge. He wouldn’t admit it, but I always suspected that Gabby encouraged him to stay away from me. From all of his friends, for that matter.”

  Rene nudged me with her foot, clearly asking if I wanted her to continue. I gave her a tiny nod.

  “So you hadn’t seen your friend and his wife for a while?” She asked.

  “Michael, no. At least not until recently. I still saw Gabby pretty regularly. She lived in the upstairs apartment here.”

  “Just her? Not her husband?”

  Von shrugged. “He left town a few months after they got married. Gabby kept their apartment.”

  Rene lifted her eyebrows. “Sounds like trouble in paradise.”

  “I always assumed so. They must have been separated, but Gabby would never admit it.”

  “Did you see her out with other men?” Rene asked.

  Von hesitated. “No.”

  I flashed on the camo-hatted stranger. “How about someone hanging around her, then, someone suspicious?”

  Von seemed surprised—and not all that pleased—to have me re-enter the conversation. “No.” He pierced me with not-unintelligent eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  I was abou
t to hem and haw my way to an explanation when Rene widened her eyes in an expression of coquettish innocence. “Seriously? Two women, traveling alone …” She shivered. “What if the murderer is some crazed, sex-killer psychopath!”

  “You two are traveling alone?” Von glanced at Amelia. “I mean, except for the babies.”

  Rene pinched my leg, clearly warning me not to contradict her. “Well, not alone, exactly. We’re together.” Her inflection implied that we were much more than traveling companions.

  Von cradled his forehead in his palms. “Of course. I should have known. You two are a couple! For a gay man, I have terrible gaydar.”

  “That’s why we’re so concerned about stalkers,” Rene continued. “We have no man to protect us.”

  Von pointed at Bella. “I doubt you have anything to worry about as long as she’s with you. Besides, I don’t think anyone knows why Gabby was killed yet, but I doubt she had a stalker. At least not one she was aware of. Crystal would have told me.”

  “Crystal?” Rene asked.

  “Another friend of mine.” He gestured with his chin to the ceiling. “She owns the hair salon upstairs, on the floor below Gabby’s apartment. I don’t hang out with her that much anymore, but I see her at Jitterbug Java pretty regularly. She would have told me if anything weird was going on with Gabby.”

  “She and your friend’s wife were close?”

  Von smirked. “That’s one way of putting it. After Michael left, Crystal glommed onto Gabby like a baby possum hanging onto its mother. My boyfriend thinks they might be—” He shuddered. “He thinks they might have been closeted lovers. Andreas says Michael probably split because he found out that Gabby was gay.”

  “That would suck, for your friend at least,” Rene said.

  Von shrugged. “Making Michael her beard would have been cruel, but I can’t really judge her about that. I didn’t come out until I was twenty-five.”

  The front door opened, admitting a burly man and a white teacup poodle, both wearing spiked leather collars and matching jackets. Bella lifted her lip and flashed a mouth sparkling with sharp, jacket-shredding teeth. The man scooped the tiny fluff ball up to his chest and scurried to the dog shoe aisle.