Karma's a Killer (10 page)

By the time I led the class in a long, luxurious Savasana, the only conclusion I'd reached was that while I had lots of questions—mainly for Dharma—I had no answers, and I wasn't likely to get any in the near future. Dale would string me up by my toenails if Dharma and I discussed the case in front of the guards again. I'd have to make a list of questions and hope Dale and his oh-so-convenient attorney-client privilege could find the answers.

I rang the chimes three times and brought the class back to sitting. After a brief Q&A session and a discussion of the upcoming week's home yoga practice, I wandered to the lobby with my students and unlocked the front door.

A vibrating, growling, foaming monster-beast lurked on the other side.

His name was Michael.

He held a wiggling Jack Russell terrier in his outstretched hands. “Take. Him. Before. I. Strangle. Him.”

He thrust Bandit into my hands, spun his back to me, and stomped away, muttering phrases about broken treat jars, gutted dog beds, and soon-to-be fricasseed terriers. Somehow I doubted that Bandit was about to become the new Pete's Pets store mascot.

I smiled at the four students still putting on their shoes in the lobby. “Anyone up for a few hours of dog-sitting duty? He's a sweet little guy.”

Bandit added a wiggle and a growl to the conversation. Two sympathetic smiles, one “no way,” and an “I'm outta here” later, Bandit and I were completely alone. I locked the door and peered down at the little beast.

“What am I supposed to do with you now?” Putting him in the car with Bella was a non-starter. I wasn't sure which one of them would win the inevitable scuffle for dominance, but I didn't want to find out the hard way. Tying him to my desk again was equally unattractive. I considered releasing him to the wild, but Seattle might never recover. I checked voicemail instead. Dale had left a message.

“Sorry, Miss Kate. I'm going to be later than I thought. I managed to get a meeting with your momma and her assigned attorney.” I stiffened at his use of the M-word. “I'll be back to pick up Bandit as soon as I can.”

In other words, I might be stuck with the little fur-demon all night. Fortunately, there was one room in the studio that might actually be Bandit-proof. I felt a little guilty locking him in the bathroom by himself, but only a little. Not nearly guilty enough to change my mind.

“Try sharpening your teeth on porcelain, you little beast.”

I marched through the yoga studio and into the lobby, then closed the door separating them. Bandit's scratches and ear-piercing yelps were much less aggravating when heard through several layers of soundproofed sheetrock.

I straightened the retail area, emptied the garbage cans, and vacuumed the lobby. By the time I unplugged the vacuum, Bandit's barking had finally stopped. Hopefully he'd relax and nap until Dale arrived to reclaim him.

I tiptoed through the yoga room and reorganized the mats, blankets, straps, bolsters, and blocks that my students had haphazardly tossed back on the shelves. Once I finished that multiple-times-daily job, I grabbed the dust mop and started sweeping the yoga space.

I heard a thud and the sound of muffled scuffling from inside the bathroom. Bandit must not be sleeping after all.

Wait a minute …

If Bandit wasn't sleeping and wasn't barking, what, pray tell, was he doing? I quietly swept my way to the bathroom and pressed my ear against the door. At first I didn't hear much of anything, other than Jack Russell toenails clicking across linoleum. Then I heard the distinct sound of ripping paper.

Paper? Where could he have gotten paper? I shrugged. He must be getting his jollies unwinding the toilet paper roll. Annoying, but how much damage could he do with a single role of—

The realization hit me like a stack of solid bamboo yoga blocks.

The supply cabinet!

I tossed the dust mop to the side and threw open the door. The supply cabinet's door hung open and half off its hinges. Fifty rolls of toilet paper and four eight-packs of paper towels had been shredded to make a bathroom-sized dog nest. The fifth eight-pack of Bounty swam in the toilet where, as advertised, it soaked up significantly more than its weight in water. Toilet paper wrapped around Bandit's head and under his collar.

Facial tissue was obviously next on Bandit's hit list. He was currently making confetti out of box number four.

Then he spied his escape route.

Bandit bolted, unwinding three hundred linear feet of bathroom tissue behind him. He made a quick victory lap around the yoga room before jumping on my newly straightened shelves, where he knocked down the basket of yoga straps, grabbed one between his pointy little teeth, and taunted me with it.

I should have known where this was going, but in my defense, I'd just survived a toilet-paper tornado. How could I possibly be expected to think clearly? I grabbed onto one end of the strap; Bandit gripped the other. He tugged and he growled and he whipped his head back and forth as he tried to get purchase on the slick hardwood floor. I tugged and I growled and contemplated canine homicide.

“Bandit, let go!”

I was so caught up in the turmoil that I didn't hear Michael's key turn in the lock or the tinkle of the front door's bell as it opened. I didn't realize that I had company until Dale's voice boomed across the room.

“Kate! What on earth is wrong with you? You shouldn't rile Bandit up like that!”

Two things happened at once. Bandit dropped the strap and I gave it one final tug. Bandit flew to Dale's side, where he skidded to a stop in a perfect sit-stay. I flew through the air and landed on my rear in a not-so-perfect Staff Pose. When I looked up, Dale's whiskers trembled with righteous indignation. Michael chewed on his lower lip and tried not to laugh.

“I'm surprised at you, Kate,” Dale scolded. “I thought you and Bella had worked with a dog trainer. Didn't she warn you about playing tug with a high-strung dog like Bandit? It will take me all night to get him calmed down.”

I would have argued with Dale, but what was the point? I was just grateful that he'd actually come back to retrieve the little demon.

“I'm sorry, Dale. I'm not used to this little guy's energy. Bella's a lot more laid-back. Maybe next time you should leave him with Tiffany.” Michael held up his palms and took several steps back. “In her apartment,” I added quickly.

I dusted the shreds of toilet paper off my pants and prayed that Dale wouldn't ask to use the bathroom. He'd probably accuse me of trying to suffocate his dog in recycled single-ply. After all, there wasn't enough water left in the toilet to drown the little bugger.

“Let's go talk in the lobby,” I suggested.

Dale and Michael sat on the bench. I remained standing and tried not to rub my bruised tailbone.

“Were you able to talk to Dharma?”

“For a little while, yes.” I could have sworn that Dale blushed behind his beard. “She's quite the woman, your mother. Did you know she spent several years in Uganda helping to protect endangered mountain gorillas?”

I didn't correct his use of the M-word. “What did she say?”

“Sorry, Kate. I can't tell you that. Dharma's and my conversation is bound by attorney-client privilege.”

“She agreed to let you represent her?”

Dale's expression turned serious. “Yes, and I've got my work cut out for me.”

“What you mean?”

“The DA has a good case, and your mom, well, she's not exactly acting in her own best interests. First, she blabbed to you in front of the guards, and now she's hiding something from me. I can't help her if I don't have all of the information.”

Michael smirked. “Get used to it, Dale. Secrecy runs in the family.”

I didn't respond to his jibe. To be truthful, I welcomed it. Teasing was Michael's way of letting me know he wasn't mad anymore.

“What's Dharma hiding?”

“Well, Miss Kate, if I knew that, we wouldn't have a problem, now would we?”

I gave Dale a droll look. “Come on. You have to tell me more than that.”

“Honestly, there's nothing to tell, except my suspicions. I've been in this business a long time. I can tell when a client is holding back, and Dharma's doing it in spades. The question is, what is she hiding and why? Something's weird about her involvement with HEAT, that's for sure. She gets cagey when I ask about the organization, and I don't buy her story of how she ended up with them. Going from protecting mountain gorillas to picketing dog owners? There's a story there, and it's not the one she's giving me.” He raked his fingers across his beard. “I'll do what I can, but … ” His words trailed off.

I had a very bad feeling about his use of the word “but.”

He reached into his pocket and removed a black plastic card. “I was able to get this, though. Dharma asked me to give it to you.”

I knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

“What is it?”

“Dharma's room key.” He handed me the card and a note with the motel's name. “It's on Aurora Avenue, not far from here. Dharma was staying in room 231. She said you agreed to pick up her belongings.” Dale looked serious. “I hate to say it, but unless something changes, you may be keeping them for her for a very long time.”

Eleven

After Dale left to
go back to his hotel, Michael and I spent the rest of the evening putting my supply cabinet door back on its hinges and filling four garbage bags with Bandit's shredded debris. Shortly after ten, we finally arrived home and cuddled together on the couch. Bella slurped down her dinner while Michael drank a Guinness and I sipped my second glass of wine.

Michael absently stroked my hair. “Kate, promise me one thing.”

“What's that?”

“If anything ever happens to Dale, swear to me that we won't adopt Bandit.”

I snuggled in deeper and smiled. “Deal.”

I wanted that moment to last forever. Wrapped up in Michael's arms. Warm. Contented. Safe. But I knew that our temporary harmony would crumble under the weight of the next secret, and in my life, there would always be a next secret. Michael and I both deserved a relationship that was solid. A relationship we could count on.

I drained the last drops of oaky Chardonnay and took a deep, bolstering breath.

“We need to talk.”

Michael's body stiffened, but I forced myself to continue. “The last couple of days have been tough on us. I know that, and I know you want more.”

He didn't contradict me.

I pushed several piles of junk mail aside, set my glass on the end table, and turned to face him.

“We keep fighting about the same issue over and over again. I love you. I will always love you. But I'm not perfect. Frankly, being in a relationship with me will sometimes be lonely. I know I promised not to shut you out, but this whole mess with Dharma made me realize that's a promise I can't keep.

Michael opened his mouth to disagree, but I cut him off.

“Please, Michael, hear me out.” My throat ached, but I kept talking. “Growing up as the only child of a single-parent cop wasn't easy. Every time I said goodbye to Dad, I knew it might be the last. I learned to be independent. I had to, to survive. ” I poured another half-glass of wine and took a large swallow. “Heck, maybe that's just an excuse. Maybe self-reliance is simply part of my karma, left over from a prior life.”

“You don't think you can learn to depend on someone else? To depend on me?”

“I already depend on you, more than you know. And it terrifies me.” I took his hands. “I'm growing, Michael. I know you see that, but I don't think your expectations of me are realistic. How can I promise not to hide things from you when most of the time I hide them from myself?”

Michael's chin trembled. “What are you saying, Kate? Do you want to break up?”

I teasingly nudged his arm. “You should be so lucky. I'm afraid, my dear, that you're stuck with me.”

He looked confused. “Then what is this about?”

I gestured around the living room at his junk. “Neither of us is perfect. If this relationship is going to work, we have to learn to accept each other—good, bad, and messy. Keeping things inside is my messy.” I shrugged. “I can't be the only one who changes.”

Michael didn't reply and I wasn't sure how to continue, so I slapped the couch cushion next to me. Bella jumped up, turned a quick circle, then lay down with her head resting in my lap. “Telling you about Dharma was hard for me, Michael, and you reacted by scolding me because I'd told Rene first. I'm doing my best to open up to you. When I do, you can't jump all over me for not having done it sooner.”

Several infinite seconds of silence passed before Michael replied. “Okay.”

I smiled and took another deep swig from my glass. “Good. I need one more promise from you.”

“What's that?”

“You need to support my decisions, even when you think I'm making a mistake.”

Michael's eyes grew wary. “What mistake are you making now?”

I answered by avoiding the question. “I know you worry about me. We almost broke up when I tried to solve George's murder. You even wanted me to stay out of Monica's murder investigation, and I was trying to prove my own innocence that time. We're about to start the whole process again.”

Michael remained quiet.

“Believe me, I don't seek out violence, but it obviously follows me. I don't know why, but there must be a reason.” I averted my eyes. “Maybe I deserve it somehow.”

“Kate, that's crazy. How could you possibly deserve it?”

“I don't know, but I'm beginning to think there's a reason. The universe has certainly been kicking me in the ass lately. Maybe there's some weird life lesson I'm supposed to learn. Maybe helping bring killers to justice is the universe's way of making me atone.”

“Atone for what?”

I couldn't tell him. My nagging guilt about Orcas was one of the secrets I still kept hidden inside.

I closed my eyes and consciously released a long, slow breath. “My point is, Dharma is in trouble, and I have to help her.”

“You did. You got Dale to represent her.”

“Yes, but you heard him tonight. Even he thinks Dharma's case looks bad.” I brushed my fingertips down Bella's muzzle. She sighed and relaxed her weight into my lap. “I'll be the first to admit, for a cop's daughter, I haven't been the most effective sleuth so far. Dad didn't share much of that part of his life with me. But I'm learning, and I'm going to do what I can to help solve Raven's murder. I know you won't approve, but I hope you won't try to stop me. I don't want to hide from you anymore.”

I held my body completely still, hoping Michael wasn't about to explode.

He stared down at the floor for several long moments before he looked up and met my eyes. “You're right, Kate. I hate it when you put yourself in danger.”

“Who said anything about putting myself in—”

Michael held up his hands, clearly asking me not to argue. “Harassing murder suspects can't be safe, Kate, and you know it.” His lips turned downward. “But I won't try to stop you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. I'm simply being pragmatic. Trying to stop you wouldn't do any good, anyway. I'm better off helping. What have you learned so far?”

“Not much, honestly.”

I outlined what I knew about Dharma's past, Eduardo and Raven's affair, and my suspicions about Maggie and her prior knowledge of HEAT.

“I thought Maggie acted funny on Saturday, too,” Michael replied. “I looked up HEAT online, and from what I could find, they've never protested an animal rescue before this weekend. There has to be a reason they started with DogMa.”

“You've been researching?”

“I'm the one who set up this whole fiasco with DogMa, remember? If something hinky is going on with Maggie or her organization, I need to know about it. Besides, you're not the only one in this room with a healthy sense of curiosity.”

I smiled.

“Like I said, though, I didn't find much. Maggie opened DogMa a little over three years ago. She must have had private funding of some sort, because she opened with space for almost a hundred an
imals. She didn't apply for 501c3 status until over a year later. I
should have done more research before I decided to back them in such a big way, but I liked Maggie, and DogMa is well regarded. The only criticism of them is that they don't take hard-to-place animals.”

“They wouldn't take Bella, that's for sure. They were one of the first places I called after George died.” I looked down guiltily at my furry best friend. “Sorry, sweetie. That was before I realized you and I were meant for each other.”

“You didn't want to hear it at the time,” Michael replied, “but they were right to refuse her. Bella wouldn't have survived in a
shelter environment. ‘No-kill' and ‘hard-to-place' don't generally go well together. DogMa's goal is to get animals into new homes as quickly as possible. Remember, every animal Maggie places in a new home frees up space at her shelter for another.”

I frowned. He was right, but that was little comfort to special-needs animals like Bella.

“If the answers were easy, Kate, every pet would have a home.”

“So, what
did
you find about HEAT?” I asked after a moment.

“Well, they don't have tax-exempt status with the IRS, so they don't qualify as a nonprofit, at least not yet. They started showing up online about two years ago. Historically, their actions have seemed reasonable enough. Protesting inhumane farming practices, going after companies that use animal testing, promoting veganism, that sort of thing. Attacking a reputable shelter, especially one in a different state, isn't like them.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“I think we should start by questioning Maggie. Luckily, I have the perfect excuse to pay her a visit.”

“What's that?”

“Her favorite subject. Donations.”

Michael was off work the next morning, so he stayed home with Bella and promised to set up a meeting with Maggie, ostensibly so we could drop off some last-minute donations. We opted to keep our ulterior motives to ourselves.

In the meantime, I was on Dharma's errand duty. I drove down Aurora Avenue North to an area that housed a collection of dingy, pay-per-hour type motels. I pulled into the parking lot of Dharma's motel at ten, which left sixty minutes for my search-and-retrieve mission before the eleven o'clock check-out time.

At one time, the motel's exterior had probably been inviting, with weatherproof vinyl siding, flower-filled window boxes, and the requisite soda and snack room. Today, the beige plastic siding was covered with cobwebs, the ice machine sported a handwritten
Out of Order
sign, and the flower pots were filled with desiccated brown ivy.

I tapped on the door to Dharma's room, waited a few seconds, then slid the key card into the slot and slowly pushed open the door.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

Flattened blue carpet, a sixties-style threadbare bedspread, and the unappetizing scent of disinfectant-laced mildew greeted me.

I opened the curtains for light and blocked the door open for ventilation. I grabbed Dharma's empty suitcase, tossed it on the bed, and wandered around the tiny room, looking for items to fill it. There wasn't much. The black shirt with the HEAT insignia that Dharma had worn Saturday morning lay crumpled on the floor next to the television. Several blouses and two pairs of jeans hung in the closet. A makeup case, hairbrush, and assorted toiletries were scattered around the bathroom counter. Thus far, I couldn't see what Dharma was so concerned about. I hadn't found anything that couldn't easily be replaced with ten minutes and a hundred-dollar gift card to Fred Meyer.

The nightstand was empty except for some cheap motel stationery, so I moved on to the dresser. I opened the top drawer and scooped out several pairs of clean socks, a bra, three pairs of white cotton underwear, and a light blue sleep shirt.

The wooden box Dharma had mentioned occupied the bottom drawer. It was old, likely antique, and about ten inches long and six inches wide. Yellow daisies decorated the top; intricate carvings were etched on its sides. A tiny padlock was latched closed at the front. I gently shook the box left and right. The items inside made a muffled sound.

Papers, maybe? Something wrapped in cloth?

With my luck, it's Dharma's cocaine stash.

I held it up to my nose and sniffed at the edge. Nothing but the scent of old cedar.

I looked around for a key, but I couldn't find one. I was about to try gently prying it open when a voice startled me from behind.

“What are you doing here?”

Goth Girl stood in the doorway wearing a long-sleeved black
T-shirt and black jeans, just as she had on Saturday. Up close, she looked younger than I'd originally thought, perhaps as young as sixteen. The pale foundation covering her skin hid a proliferation of old acne scars. Her nails had been bitten to the quick, and a yellow stain between her second and third fingers hinted at a nicotine addiction.

I almost couldn't believe that this was the same girl I'd seen at the fun walk. When she'd released Blackie, she'd seemed bold, frustrated. Angry, even. Today, she looked vulnerable somehow. As if the dyed hair, makeup, and multiple piercings were shields—armor she wore to keep the world from seeing her true self.

I held Dharma's box to my chest and tried to look nonthreatening. “My name is Kate. Dharma is my … Dharma is a friend of mine. She asked me to pick up her belongings.”

Goth Girl looked uneasy, like a feral kitten hoping for handouts but afraid of a trap. She took a single step toward me, then hesitated and took two steps back. “Is she okay? Everyone's talking trash about her, saying that she killed Raven. But she was always good to me.”

“I don't think Dharma killed anyone, do you?”

Goth Girl shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

I should have been wary. Goth Girl was, after all, one of my suspects. She might be a murderer. Logically, I knew I should be careful, but at that moment, my biggest fear was that she would bolt.

“You say Dharma was good to you. You might be able to help her.” I smiled, hoping to encourage her. “Why don't you come inside and talk to me.”

Goth Girl glanced furtively behind her. “I can't talk to you. Eduardo won't like it.”

“Why not? Eduardo is Dharma's friend too.” I sat down and patted the space on the bed next to me. “Please come in and sit down.”

She took two cautious steps into the room. “Aren't you that woman from the yoga studio? Eduardo said you and Dharma are related somehow.”

“Yes, I'm her daughter.”

Goth Girl shifted her weight back and forth and worried the edge of her thumb nail. “Raven said I should never talk to strangers alone. It isn't safe.”

Eduardo, and now Raven? This might be the first teenager on earth that actually paid attention to her elders. Still, their counsel made sense, for both of us.