Murber Strikes a Pose

by Tracy Weber

  John’s suspicion turned to irritation. “Now wait one cotton-pickin’ minute, little one. You promised me you would stay out of this.”

  I hesitated, wondering how much to tell him. “I took Bella to George’s daughter, exactly like I told you I would. It’s not my fault Sarah and her husband started volunteering information. But I’m telling you, someone needs to talk to them. They’re hiding something.”

  “Katy, Katy, Katy,” John replied, sounding disappointed. “I knew you’d stick your nose in this. You always do. But as it happens, I’ve been keeping my eye on the case. You’re wrong. The daughter and her husband have solid alibis.”

  “They were with each other, right?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Did anyone else see them? How do you know they’re not lying to protect each other?”

  John exhaled the long-suffering sigh of a parent dealing with an obstinate teen. “Katydid, I already told you. You’re making too much of this. There is absolutely no evidence that this wasn’t exactly what it appears to be: two drunks fighting over a bottle or a buck.”

  “But, John—”

  “But nothing, Kate,” he interrupted, clearly annoyed. “Be quiet now and listen. I’m sorry your friend got killed, but there’s no great conspiracy here. You’re in way over your head, and frankly, you’re starting to make a fool out of yourself. Now I’ll say this one final time. Let the professionals do their job and stay out of it!”

  I slammed down the phone in a gesture of frustrated determination. John’s reaction was exactly what I’d feared. If the police were going to stick to their asinine theory, I didn’t have a choice. I would have to solve George’s murder myself.

  twelve

  I spent the next several hours grumbling to myself about sleazy pet store clerks and incompetent police detectives. Before I knew it, Alicia had arrived for her Thursday afternoon appointment.

  “I’m so glad to be here,” she said as she walked into the studio. Each step was achingly tentative, as if moving took almost more effort than she could bear. Dark smudges beneath her eyes contrasted starkly with pale, translucent skin. Her hands trembled slightly as she unrolled her mat.

  “How do you feel today?” I asked.

  “Well, I have good days and bad days, you know. This is one of the tough ones.” She smiled wanly. “But your life is more interesting than mine, anyway. How are you?”

  We chatted for a few minutes, though I studiously avoided all but the most superficial of topics. I generally liked to keep my personal life private, but Alicia seemed to appreciate our small talk, as if hearing about the minutiae of my life gave respite from the Hell that was her own.

  When we were ready to begin, I invited her to lie on the mat and completely relax, releasing her body into the embrace of the earth. I started by leading her in a centering, breath-focused meditation.

  “Allow your mind to be anchored in this present moment. Not concerned with the past, not worried about the future. All that matters is now. Every time your mind wanders, simply bring it back to the sensation of your breath.” Alicia closed her eyes and began lengthening her breath. “Each time you inhale, imagine a white light entering your lungs, filling your body with life-giving energy.” Her rib cage visibly widened. “Each time you exhale, imagine a dark fog exiting your nostrils, carrying with it all tension, exhaustion, and fear.” Alicia wiggled her shoulders and settled deeper into her mat. I would have sworn that the room itself sighed.

  After several more minutes of meditation, I guided her through a sequence of yoga poses designed to be gentle, yet purposeful, subtle, yet powerful. Light traces of color returned to her cheeks; worry lines eased from her brow. As I witnessed Alicia’s transformation, I felt myself relax. Even after years of experience, I was amazed at how teaching yoga to others could so deeply and personally impact me.

  We wrapped up her movement practice with a treasured period of rest. I asked Alicia to lie on the floor with her body draped over a bolster. She extended her legs straight out on her mat and arched her spine over the oval-shaped cushion. Once her head, neck, and back were safely in place, she reached her arms out to the side and faced her palms toward the ceiling. This restorative, heart-opening position subtly built energy, something Alicia so desperately needed.

  She rested in silence for ten minutes, until I rang the chimes and asked her to finish her practice. “Begin with small movements, such as wiggling your fingers and toes or even simply taking a deep breath or two. When you’re ready, roll to your side for a moment, then gradually press yourself up to sitting.”

  Alicia slowly sat up, looking not exactly healthy, but at least refreshed. A slight smile graced her lips, and a light pink color enhanced her cheeks. We brought our hands together in prayer position, planning to end the practice by saying Namaste: “The light in me honors the light in you.”

  “Nama—”

  What the heck?

  The studio lights shattered our Zen-like practice, flickering on and off like strobe lights in a seventies disco—from Hell. The newest of the many annoying idiosyncrasies of the space.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” I said. “I’ll go turn them off.”

  Alicia smiled. “Seems like I should be the one apologizing. We must be having problems with the electrical system again. I swear whoever built this building should have his license revoked. I’ll tell Jake to come and take a look at it.”

  As if my week wasn’t going badly enough. “Don’t worry about it,” I said quickly. “I’ll call an electrician.”

  “You have got to be kidding,” Alicia chided. “Do you have any idea how much they charge?”

  Unfortunately, I did. The last time I had an electrical issue, the bill was well over $1,000. Jake was terminally annoying, but if he could fix the problem, he was also free.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” I admitted. “Maybe it’s a problem with the dimmer switch. I’d be foolish to call an electrician for that. Have Jake give me a call and we’ll set up a time for him to come over.”

  “It might be a few days,” Alicia replied as she rolled up her mat. “This whole murder business has everybody in an uproar. The police have been questioning all the tenants, and poor Jake has been on the phone nonstop. Nobody feels safe with violent drunks and drug dealers setting up shop in the neighborhood. There’s even talk of starting a neighborhood watch.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think anyone has to worry.”

  Alicia stopped, surprised. “What makes you say that?”

  I hesitated, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “This would seem crazy to a lot of people, but I think you’ll understand. I’ve dedicated my life to teaching and practicing yoga. Most people think yoga is simply a form of exercise, but as you know, it’s much deeper than that. It’s about mindfulness, about focus. It helps us see things as they truly are.” Alicia hadn’t burst out laughing yet, so I continued.

  “As a yoga teacher, I notice subtleties that most people overlook. It’s not intuition, exactly, but it sure feels that way. I sense things in my gut, and when I do, I’m almost always right. And my gut tells me the murder was personal.

  “Besides, I knew the man who was killed. I overheard a fight right before I found his body and—”

  Alicia’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, I totally forgot. You found the body! How callous of me! I sometimes get so caught up in my own world that I completely forget about other people. I’m so very sorry.”

  I smiled. “You’re not exactly self-centered, Alicia. And even if you were, you have a pretty good excuse.”

  “Maybe, but still …” She paused. “Hey, wait a minute. You knew the guy who was killed? I thought he was a transient.”

  We continued talking as we moved to the lobby. “Not exactly. He was part of the homeless community, but he lived in the neighborhood. He sold Dollars for Change in front of the studio. He and his Ger
man shepherd were out there almost every day. Didn’t you see them?”

  “Now that you mention it, I do remember a man with a big dog out there. But honestly, I didn’t pay much attention to him. Seems like those guys are everywhere.” She looked at me quizzically. “But I still don’t get it. The police told Jake that the man was killed in some kind of drunken brawl.”

  “I know, that’s what they keep telling me, too,” I replied. “But they’re wrong. And I won’t let it go. I won’t stop looking until I learn the truth.”

  Alicia handed me a check for the day’s session. “I know this sounds terrible, but I hope you’re right—that the murder was personal, that is. I hate the thought of Greenwood being taken over by criminals. Several of our renters have threatened to move, and the stress is driving poor Jake crazy.” She stopped at the door. “You know, I’m not around very much, but Jake’s here all the time. Maybe the two of you should put your heads together. Who knows? You might remember something important. I’ll have him give you a call.”

  Great. I was already an untrained, self-appointed Sherlock Holmes. Now I was stuck with Jake as my Watson.

  thirteen

  The next two days went by in a blur. I didn’t exactly forget about George’s murder; I just got caught up in the mundane tasks of everyday life.

  When I wasn’t being dragged around a local park by Bella, I taught classes, paid bills, called customers, and performed the myriad of other duties that consumed my life as a small business owner.

  Part of me felt like a failure. Four days had passed since George’s murder, and I still had no idea who might have wanted to kill him. The more rational part disagreed. If I truly wanted to honor George’s memory, finding a good home for Bella had to come first.

  I took Michael’s advice and started contacting rescue groups. I called every group I could find in the greater Seattle area—even some in eastern Washington. He was right. Finding a no-kill rescue willing to take Bella wouldn’t be easy. Most of the rescues I contacted were full and would be for the foreseeable future. The shelters that had space often weren’t equipped to deal with Bella’s disease. Those who were willing to jump that hurdle said a firm and final no as soon as they learned about her behavior issues.

  I finally found Fido’s Last Chance—a rescue specializing in hard-to-place dogs that were literally one step away from euthanasia. I hated putting Bella in that category, but I was getting desperate. After thirty-seven firm answers of “no,” a “maybe” sounded downright promising. I crossed my fingers and set an evaluation appointment.

  On to the next project: paying off my ill-conceived bet with Michael. Our date was to begin in two short hours, and Rene reveled in date-preparation heaven. She invaded my home with half her wardrobe, determined to make me look, if not sexy and glamorous, then at least presentable. She balked, however, at Bella’s participation in Extreme Makeover: Kate Edition.

  “A dog? Seriously? If you wanted a dog, why couldn’t you have at least gotten something cute and hypoallergenic, like a toy poodle or even one of those labradoodles? You know how bad my allergies are!” She sneezed, a bit more dramatically than strictly necessary. “You’ve gone from being the crazy cat lady to the creepy dog lady!”

  “I’m sure you’ll live, Rene,” I replied drolly. “Besides, I already told you. I’m not keeping her. She’s only staying here until I find her a permanent home.”

  Rene looked around the room, exasperated. “How am I supposed to help you land this guy when everything you own is covered in dog hair? As if your clothing tastes weren’t bad enough.” She sighed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Give it a break, Rene. Tonight’s my way of paying off a bet. It’s not Love Connection.”

  “Don’t be silly. This is the first date you’ve had in months. I’m not about to let you blow it.” She held up an outfit. “How about this dress and those red stilettos?”

  “Those shoes are great,” I replied, “as long as he’s planning to carry me everywhere.” I tried them on to make her happy. “Criminy! How small are your feet, anyway?”

  “Fine. Forget the shoes. At least you own a decent pair of black pumps. Wear those. And try on this little black dress.” She handed me a dark cloth the size of a handkerchief.

  It was easier to acquiesce than to argue. I tried them on. I had to admit, the pumps did make my calves look good. The dress, however, made me look six months pregnant—with twins.

  Rene shook her head. “Ditch the dress. That’s no good. How about my charcoal miniskirt and your bright blue blouse?”

  I put them on.

  “Hey, not bad!” she exclaimed.

  I had to agree with her. I usually wear skirts specifically designed to camouflage my flabby upper thighs. But to my surprise, this short skirt made my legs look, if not quite model-thin, at least less Miss Piggy-like.

  “Unbutton the top two buttons of the blouse,” Rene ordered.

  I obeyed. I could always button them back up later.

  Rene stood back to assess her work. “Much better. Now, take everything off so I can iron it.” She furrowed her brow. “But what will we do with that hair?”

  I knew better than to argue with Rene when she was on a tear, but all this effort was silly. I had no intention of ever going out with Michael again. I could understand getting all dressed up for a first date, but who in their right mind spent this much energy getting ready for a last date?

  Sixty minutes later, the chosen outfit hung wrinkle-free on the bathroom door, my hair was pinned in an up-do with so much hairspray a tornado couldn’t tear it loose, and my fingers and toes shimmered with Rene’s sparkly, deep red nail polish—a shade auspiciously called “Walk of Shame.” Subtle, Rene. Real subtle.

  Rene finally allowed me to rest—but only while my nails dried. I sipped herbal tea, savoring the spicy aroma of ginger, while Rene nibbled almond orange biscotti. Bella stood sentry, quietly begging and drooling.

  “I’ll trust you to do your own makeup,” Rene said, waving her index finger back and forth. “But don’t make me regret it.” Tired of harassing me about my appearance, she turned to a new topic.

  “So what is the story with the dog? I thought you’d be rid of it by now.”

  “I thought so too. But I can’t find anyone who’ll take her. I don’t suppose you and Sam are up for a new roommate?”

  “Absolutely not,” Rene replied, shaking her head vigorously. “The only dog to enter my house will be small and hairless. This drooling, furry monster doesn’t even come close.” She pointed to her saliva-covered jeans. “Look at my pants—she slimed me!” Rene pretended to be annoyed, but her affectionate smile revealed her true feelings. She leaned forward, touched her nose to Bella’s, and cooed, “You’re a stupid, disgusting monster-dog, aren’t you?” Bella leaned into Rene’s touch, groaned deeply, and gazed at her with unmistakable adoration.

  Rene reached under the table to give Bella the last bite of cookie. “I have to admit though, she does grow on you. It almost seems like she can stare right into your soul. Too bad she’s so darned big. Are you sure she isn’t part horse?”

  I laughed. “I used to say that myself, but now that I’ve gotten used to her, I don’t really notice her size. I can see why George loved her so much.”

  Rene stopped teasing. Her face turned uncharacteristically serious. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but why don’t you keep her? You obviously like her, and she seems right at home here. Other than being a German shedder, she’s not so bad. I can always load up on Benadryl before I come over. At least then I won’t have to worry so much about you being alone.”

  I carried our dishes to the sink. “Honestly, Rene, part of me wishes I could keep her. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Bella needs a family that can devote more time to her. With me, she spends most of the day alone.”

  “Can’t she hang ou
t with you at the studio?”

  “Are you kidding? I tried that. It was a disaster. Bella barked at everyone who came to the door. The postman even threatened to stop delivering our mail. Seemed like every ten minutes, I had to take her out to the car or lock her in the bathroom.”

  Rene shrugged. “I still don’t see the big issue. Leave her here. Most dogs stay at home while their owners work. Bella will be fine.”

  I laughed. “Tried that too. She barked, howled, and drove my neighbors nuts.” I poured myself a glass of water. “She’s quiet when she’s alone in her crate, but I can’t leave her caged for ten hours a day. I’ve resorted to taking her to work with me and leaving her in the car.”

  “In the car? Is that safe?” Rene asked.

  “It’s certainly not optimal, but it’s safe. I reserved one of the covered spots by the studio’s back entrance. On warm days, my car’s cooler than the house.”

  I took a long drink. “It’s not fair to her, though. I bring her into the studio while I close up at night, but she’s still cooped up most of the day. Besides, I’d go bankrupt feeding her, let alone paying for her $400-a-month medicine. As it is, I can barely afford to feed myself.”

  “How much money do you have left from your dad?”

  “About $4,000, but I need some of that for taxes. The Department of Revenue isn’t nearly as forgiving as Alicia.”

  “I thought business was picking up.”

  “It is. I’m not paying to work at the studio anymore—at least not most months—but I’m still not drawing a regular salary.” My gaze didn’t quite meet Rene’s. “So as much as I’d like to keep Bella, I can’t.”

  Rene could read me like a human lie detector—even when I didn’t realize I was lying. She leaned back, crossed her arms, and looked at me skeptically. “Nice try, Kate. I know you better than that. Everything you said is an excuse. You’d find a way to make it work; you always do. And Sam and I can always help out in a pinch.” She forced me to make eye contact, insisting I tell her the truth. “What’s really going on here?”