Pre-Meditated Murder

by Tracy Weber

  “Drive fast.”

  I clicked off the phone and shoved it in my pocket. “Dale says he’ll get to Astoria as soon as he can.”

  Crystal wore an odd expression, simultaneously thoughtful and distressed. “How long will that be?”

  “Two hours.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Do you really think Michael’s in danger?”

  I paused, willing myself to not overreact. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Officer Boyle’s face flashed through my memory, followed closely by Michael’s swollen nose and purpling eye. “Yes.”

  Crystal’s shoulders squared. “Then that’s two hours too long. We can’t stand here twiddling our thumbs while Michael gets hurt.”

  “We’re not going to,” Shannon said. “Come on, Kate, I have an idea.” She grabbed my elbow and pulled me down the beach. Bella trotted behind me.

  “Wait a minute! I’m coming with you!” Crystal yelled.

  Shannon whipped around and gave her a hard stare. “No, you’re not.” She turned back to me. “Kate, I said now. Get moving.”

  Bella and I scrambled through the deep sand behind her. “Shannon, slow down!” I stopped, lungs heaving, and tried to catch my breath. “Where are we going?”

  “Away from Crystal and Von.”

  “Why?” The word came out in a scratchy, asthmatic half gasp. If Shannon didn’t slow down soon, she’d either lose me or I’d drop dead of heart failure.

  We finally caught up to her under the gazebo at Whale Park. She was scrolling through the contacts on her cell phone.

  “Why did we ditch Crystal and Von?”

  “What good are they? Von’s on Boyle’s side, and Crystal is useless. We need help. Inside help. I think we can get it, but not if we have those two numbskulls tagging along. I’m mad enough to leave you behind too, but I can’t. If my plan’s going to work, you need to be part of it.” She touched her index finger to the screen, pressed the phone to her ear, and mumbled, “Come on! Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  She turned her back to me and frowned, plugging her free ear with her index finger. “Hi, it’s Shannon. We need to meet.” Silence. “I know, but it’s important.” She walked to the edge of the gazebo and back again. “My brother’s girlfriend and I have a confession to make.”

  Which was how, four days after Gabriella’s death, Bella and I found ourselves race-walking behind Shannon to Arcadia Beach. At almost seven in the evening, the horizon glowed indigo-pink, a hue so gorgeous I wanted to bottle it for Rene’s fall onesie collection.

  Shannon didn’t slow down until we’d skirted around the final rock outcropping toward the stairway that led up to the parking lot. Officer Alex stood, or rather paced back and forth, near the bottom step. Static crackled from the microphone on her shoulder. She ignored Bella and me and spoke directly to Shannon. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into meeting you here. Alone, no less. I only agreed because …” She scowled and shook her head. “Oh hell. I don’t even know why I agreed.”

  “I do,” Shannon replied. “You don’t think my brother’s guilty.”

  “Not true,” she replied. “And it doesn’t matter what I think, anyway. Deciding his guilt isn’t up to me.”

  “It’s not up to Boyle, either,” Shannon argued.

  Officer Alex didn’t reply.

  Shannon stepped close to her and placed a hand on her forearm. “Come on, Alex. We’re friends. I know you don’t trust Boyle.”

  She jerked her arm away. “Make no mistake. Tonight, I am not your friend. I am an officer of the law. My loyalties do not lie with you. Or with that damned brother of yours, for that matter.” She glanced at me, then frowned back at Shannon. “You said you had a confession to make. Now what is it?”

  I was curious about that myself. I would have quizzed Shannon on the way but we were moving too fast. Anything but the shallowest of breathing was an unaffordable luxury. In-depth conversation? Out of the question.

  “Kate and I searched Gabriella’s apartment,” Shannon said. “We found evidence that you missed.”

  Oh good lord. Shannon was going to tell Officer Alex about the money we’d found in Gabriella’s apartment. Dale had been cranky with me before. Now he’d be apoplectic.

  Officer Alex wasn’t far off herself. “You two have been concealing evidence? Since when?”

  Shannon and I replied at the same time.

  “Since never,” I said.

  “What difference does it make?” Shannon said louder.

  Officer Alex pointed to me. “You. Talk. Now.”

  I chose my words carefully, hoping I wasn’t about to end up in a cell next to Michael. “You’d already searched the apartment when we legally entered and looked around ourselves. We found something that may be relevant to Michael’s defense and gave it to his attorney, Dale Evans.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not saying anything more until I get Dale’s permission.”

  Shannon whirled at me and snapped, “You and that damned lawyer. If you two had told me what you were thinking about Boyle last night, I’d have called Alex then and Michael wouldn’t be in this predicament. What good will some Podunk attorney do if Michael is dead?”

  Officer Alex’s expression flipped from frustrated to confused. “Dead? Why would your brother be dead? And what does Boyle have to do with any of this?”

  “He killed Gabriella,” Shannon replied. “He’s going to kill Michael next.”

  Officer Alex threw up her hands and started marching back to the staircase. “You’re insane. I never should have come here.”

  Shannon grabbed her arm. “Hear me out, please.”

  Officer Alex stopped walking, but she didn’t look happy.

  “You and I both got a little tipsy the night we closed on your house, remember?”

  The officer’s eyes grew wary. “Yes …”

  “You told me that the only bad thing about living in Cannon Beach was dealing with Boyle and his harassment. When I asked you to explain, you claimed it was just the alcohol talking.”

  Silence.

  “It wasn’t the alcohol, was it?”

  Officer Alex glanced uneasily at me, then glued her eyes on Shannon. “What does that have to do with your brother?”

  “Nothing. Not directly, anyway. It’s about Gabriella. Boyle was harassing her, too.”

  Officer Alex jolted. “Harassing her? Did he even know her?”

  “Kate, tell Alex what you learned from Mona yesterday.” Shannon glared at me, lips thinned, jaw set. Clearly unwilling to take no for an answer. “We need her help. If you don’t tell her about Boyle, I will.”

  I flashed on Michael’s bloodied face. I didn’t want to admit it, but Shannon might be right. We’d kept too many secrets, and Dale was too far away to help. We needed someone on the inside. Someone who could set bias aside. Maybe that someone was currently staring at me, wearing a blue-black police uniform.

  Please forgive me, Dale.

  I told her everything.

  “First off, I don’t know for sure that Officer Boyle killed Gabriella, but at the very least, he shouldn’t be a lead investigator in the case. He has a conflict of interest.” I told Officer Alex about Boyle’s frequent visits to Tuscany, Gabriella’s place of employment. “According to Gabriella’s boss, Boyle spent a lot of time there.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he likes Italian food. Big deal.”

  “Have you ever eaten there?”

  “Once.”

  “Then you know it’s pricey. A special-occasion place. Not some diner you eat at multiple times a week. Not on a cop’s salary, anyway. Besides, Boyle never ordered a meal. He just sucked down coffee and monopolized one of the tables in Gabriella’s section.”

  “Again, big deal. Maybe he was interested in her. That’s not a crime, either.”

&nbs
p; Shannon interrupted. “If he was interested in her romantically, shouldn’t he have divulged that when he was assigned to her case?”

  No reply.

  “From what I learned, he was more than simply interested in her,” I continued. “I think they had an affair. Gabriella ended it right around the time she realized she was pregnant.” The last part was pure conjecture, but it made sense. “Mona—the boss—saw them fighting. Boyle got so mad he kicked the headlight out of his police car.”

  For the first time, Officer Alex’s voice didn’t sound confident. “That’s how his car got trashed? He told the captain that some kids vandalized it while he was using the gas station’s restroom.”

  “He lied.” Shannon’s voice was deadpan.

  “I don’t think Boyle took Gabriella’s no for an answer,” I said. “I think he kept hounding her, asking—maybe even demanding—that she take him back.” I spoke faster, warming to my new theory. “When we saw Gabriella at the spaghetti dinner, she seemed frightened of something—or of someone. I’m almost positive that someone was Boyle. He certainly didn’t seem happy to see Michael.”

  Officer Alex stared at me without blinking. “If your theory is true, your brother’s arriving in town would have been a good thing. He came to Cannon Beach to demand a divorce. He admitted that much before he lawyered up.”

  “Michael and Gabriella knew that,” Shannon said, “but what if Boyle didn’t? What if he thought they were getting back together?”

  I leaned toward Officer Alex, as if physical proximity would make me more credible. “You saw Gabriella’s apartment. She had photos of Michael and her everywhere. It practically looked like a shrine. She even faked a love note from Michael and taped it to her refrigerator.”

  Officer Alex’s face showed no expression.

  “Don’t you see?” I said. “Gabriella was trying to get rid of Boyle—or at least buy time—by telling him that she was reconciling with her husband. She was pretending that she and Michael were getting back together, even though their marriage was clearly over.”

  Officer Alex crossed her arms. “You’re overlooking one very obvious explanation. Her relationship with her husband may not have been as ‘over,’ as you’ve been led to believe.”

  Shannon and I spoke simultaneously, for once in agreement.

  “No way,” Shannon said.

  “Not a chance.” My head shook so hard, I was surprised it didn’t fly off my shoulders.

  Officer Alex frowned. “Fine. Let’s say you’re right. What was she buying time for?”

  “To gather enough money to disappear. Shannon and I found cash hidden all over the apartment. Almost twelve thousand dollars. Gabriella quit her job the night of the murder, too. She was definitely running. The question is, from who?”

  Officer Alex rubbed her forehead and sighed. I hoped that meant I was getting through to her. “She wouldn’t have been running from Michael. Like you said, he wanted a divorce. She could have gotten rid of him with the swipe of a pen.”

  “Alex,” Shannon whispered. “I know you don’t trust Boyle. What I don’t know is why. Has he physically threatened you?”

  Officer Alex avoided eye contact by reaching down to rub Bella’s ears. Her voice was barely a whisper. “No. He’s never touched me. He didn’t physically assault the officer in Portland, either, at least not as far as I know.”

  “Portland?” I asked.

  She lifted her eyes and met mine. “Boyle was suspended in Portland for sexual harassment. He wallpapered a gay officer’s locker with porn photos.”

  “Suspended? Not fired?”

  Her voice grew bitter. “Yes, and barely that. He got a couple of days without pay, a note in his file, and a week’s worth of sensitivity training. When he applied for the job here, he convinced the asshole who hired him that he’d learned his lesson.” She huffed. “What a joke.”

  “He’s harassing you now.” My words were a statement, not a question.

  Alex replied with a single, almost imperceptible nod. “Turns out he’s an equal opportunity homophobe.”

  “Why don’t you file a complaint?”

  “I did, but nothing came of it. It’s my word against his. Evidently he learned one lesson during those classes in Portland: don’t leave any evidence. He limits his ugliness to whispered slurs when no one else is around.”

  Her story both saddened and surprised me. “I thought everyone in the Pacific Northwest under the age of seventy-five had outgrown those ancient biases. Especially now that same-sex marriage has been legalized.”

  Alex laughed, but without humor. “In some ways, the hostility has gotten worse since gay marriage became legal.” She picked up a rock and threw it toward the ocean. “Look, you’ve raised some legitimate concerns about Boyle, but I’m still not convinced he’s a killer. He’s a jackass for sure, but I deal with jackasses every day. Most of them never commit murder.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “But listen to your gut. Is it possible?”

  She didn’t reply, which was an answer all by itself.

  “Alex,” Shannon whispered. “Someone else might get hurt.”

  “What do you expect me to do? I can’t accuse a fellow officer of murder. Not without more than a few unfounded suspicions.”

  “Maybe not,” Shannon replied. “But you can help keep my brother safe.”

  “How?”

  “Go to the jail. Make sure Boyle doesn’t spend any time alone with Michael. If we’re wrong, what harm will it do? If we’re right, you might save my brother’s life.”

  Officer Alex slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, all hesitation was gone. “I’ll head to Astoria now.”

  She jogged up the stairwell and disappeared. A few seconds later, her patrol car’s lights strobed in the gathering darkness.

  twenty

  Shannon and I hustled back along the beach, heading toward our separate vehicles. We agreed to meet at the police station in Astoria. Hopefully between Dale, Officer Alex, Shannon, and me, we could keep Michael safe until Dale arranged bail.

  Hopefully.

  When we hit the entrance to Tolovana Beach, Shannon jogged right and headed up the ramp toward her car in the parking lot. Bella and I continued race-walking toward mine, which I’d moved to a side street near Whale Park. A male voice spoke over a loudspeaker, introducing the night’s band. Eight o’clock. Three hours since Michael’s run-in with Officer Boyle.

  I skirted around the crowd, trying not to drown in a complex emotional stew: hope, worry, frustration, longing. Dale and Officer Alex were on the case. That gave me hope. We’d done everything we could to help Michael, but it might not be enough. That caused the worry. I had an uneasy feeling that I’d missed something, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. Hence the frustration.

  The most surprising emotion, however, was longing. Longing to be here with Michael, enjoying this place under happier circumstances.

  Bella slowed and began sniffing, a sure sign that she needed a bio break. I stopped walking and loosened her leash. “Okay, sweetheart, go ahead.”

  In that blissful moment of stillness, I could almost imagine Michael standing next to me. I could almost feel the warmth of his fingers intertwined with mine, enjoying the night.

  The sky was a sparkling ebony, lit by brilliant white stars and yellow-orange campfires. The scent of burnt marshmallows wafted on the cool evening breeze. A retro band belted out ’80s tunes from a makeshift bandstand: “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

  The song jolted me back to reality.

  This girl just wanted to break her boyfriend out of jail.

  “Come on, Bella, we have to go.” I upped our pace from race-walking to jogging.

  We were steps away from my car when my cell phone rang. I glanced at the area code: 503. Northwest Oregon. I considered letting the call go to voicemail
, but I couldn’t. What if it was someone calling with news about Michael?

  It wasn’t. At least not directly.

  The hysteria in Crystal’s voice sounded real. “Kate, thank goodness you picked up. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  The question that popped from my mouth was largely irrelevant. “How did you get my cell number?”

  “You put it on your client intake form. That’s not important, though.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Kate, I think I screwed up. I think Officer Boyle is after me.”

  Her words were so ludicrous, at first I thought I’d misheard them. “What?”

  “I was freaked out about Michael, so I decided to leave the bonfire and head to Astoria. When I got to my car a few minutes ago, the tires were slashed. At first I figured it was some stupid teenagers. The local kids get pretty wild during the festival. I came back to the hair salon to call the police, and it’s been trashed, too.” I could hear her swallow through the phone line. “Kids might do one or the other, but not both. I’m being targeted.”

  “I don’t blame you for being upset, but what makes you think Boyle did any of this?”

  “He’s trying to intimidate me.” Her voice shook. “It’s working.”

  Crystal kept talking, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I leaned against my Honda, feeling frustrated and struggling to hold back an insensitive retort. Arguing with a crime victim wouldn’t be yogic, but Crystal’s theory about Boyle didn’t make any sense. Boyle already had what he wanted: Michael. He had no reason to waste time intimidating Crystal. She simply wasn’t important enough. Her initial assumption was right. The vandals were probably some misguided kids blowing off steam.

  Unless …

  What if we were wrong about Boyle being the killer? What if he was simply a rogue cop locked on the wrong suspect? What if the real killer was still out there? Could that killer be Crystal’s vandal?

  My mind whirled through suspects, but none of them felt right. The camo-capped man was out. He might be a nut job, but his nut was firmly fixated on his ex-wife. Shannon? She’d hated how Gabriella was using Michael, and she’d have done anything to protect him. But we’d been together until a few minutes ago. When would she have had time to trash Crystal’s shop? Von. Von was hiding something under that bandage, and he resented Gabriella. But Crystal? Why would he go after Crystal?