eight

I spun to face Shannon. “How could we allow Michael to drive off alone with the cops like that? We should have forced him to call a lawyer.”

Shannon shook her head. “That would have been a colossal mistake, Kate. Alex Lewis is sharp.”

“How do you know her?”

“She’s one of my real estate clients.”

I gaped at her, incredulous. “You’re trusting your brother’s freedom to someone you only know as a customer?”

“Believe me, realtors—good ones, anyway—spend a lot of time getting to know their home buyers. We learn secrets even their families don’t know. She and that Boyle character don’t always see eye-to-eye, but she’s a good cop. I trust her.”

“It sure didn’t seem like it when you blockaded her from your house.”

Shannon glared at me. “I didn’t have all of the information then, now did I? I thought she and Boyle were here to harass Michael about public drunkenness. Lots of people get stupid during Sandcastle Week. I figured if I made getting to him hard enough, they’d move on to the next drunken idiot. I’d never have made such a fuss if I’d known Gabby was dead. Murder is serious. If Michael didn’t go with them to identify her body, it would have looked suspicious.”

“It already looks suspicious! Don’t you get that?” The frustration in my voice covered my fear. “Let me spell it out for you.” I counted off the points on my fingers. “One: Michael was planning to sue Gabriella for divorce, and she was fighting him on it. Two: He didn’t come home last night. Three: Boyle saw Michael and Gabriella fighting less than twenty-four hours before her death. Four: I found the body.” I groaned and buried my face in my palms. “Why did Bella have to sniff out that damned body?”

“Five,” Shannon added, sounding a little testy herself. “You lied to the police. You knew the dead woman was Gabby all along, didn’t you?”

I didn’t reply. Then again, I didn’t have to. The shame on my face spoke volumes.

“Kate, why didn’t you tell the police it was Gabby? Don’t you see how guilty that makes Michael look?”

Tears burned the backs of my eyes. “I wanted to warn him before the police questioned him.”

Shannon’s sarcastic smirk matched the tone of her voice. “How’s that working out so far?”

I had to admit, my decision to withhold Gabriella’s identity seemed pretty stupid in hindsight. Nothing had gone the way I had planned. I hadn’t been able to forewarn Michael, and my caginess provided one more reason for the cops to suspect him. To suspect both of us, actually. At the rate things were going, Michael wouldn’t be the only one who needed a lawyer.

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

“Dale’s your attorney?”

“Yes.”

“Is he any good?”

I didn’t reply. The answer was too complex for a ten-second explanation. Dale was more than a “good” lawyer. He was practically legendary. Or at least he had been, until he abandoned his high-profile Seattle law firm to “retire” in the country. He was also Michael’s and my friend, and, as of recently, my mother’s life partner. She lived with him on Orcas Island, where they ran a rescue for goats and donkeys. He’d represented me over a year ago when I was suspected of murder. There was no one I trusted more to get Michael out of this mess.

He answered on the third ring. After a quick hello, I jumped right to the problem. I skipped both the niceties and the details about Michael’s relationship to Gabriella. That was a story for a less urgent time. Instead, I told him that I was calling from Oregon, that I’d found another body, that Michael was a logical suspect for her murder, and that he was currently riding in a police car on his way to identify the body.

Dale interrupted. I could almost feel his white whiskers tremble through the phone line. “Wait a minute. You think Michael’s under suspicion for murder, and you let him ride along with the police?”

My mother, Dharma, spoke in the background. “Dale, is that Kate? What’s going on?”

Dale shushed her, a dangerous move with a woman as hot-tempered as my mother. He was taking the situation seriously. Good.

“Tell Dharma I’ll fill her in later,” I said. “I tried to reason with Michael, but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted on going to Seaside with the police and—”

Dale shushed me, too. “Kate, I’ll call you back and get the details in a few minutes. We don’t have time to waste.” The line went dead.

Shannon’s eyes begged for good news. I shrugged. “He said he’ll call back.”

We stared at each other in uneasy silence for what felt like a century. Ten real-time minutes later, my cell phone rang.

Dale’s muffled voice spoke on the other end of the line. “I’m in my office. Your mother’s pissed because I won’t tell her what’s going on, and I’m sure she’s trying to listen through the door, so I’ll need to keep my voice down.” He sighed. “I suspect I’ll be sleeping with the donkeys tonight. Everyone believes in attorney-client privilege until it applies to someone they love.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d hated it when Dale had withheld information from me about Dharma’s case. I guess turnabout really was fair play.

Dale continued. “Michael didn’t answer his cell, but I got hold of an attorney buddy of mine in Seaside. He’s going to intercept Michael and those police officers at the morgue. My friend doesn’t generally practice criminal law, but he knows enough to order that man of yours to keep his mouth shut. Did the police Mirandize him?”

“No. At least not before they left.”

“Then we may be in luck. They won’t ask him too many questions until they read him his rights. As long as they don’t do it before my friend intercepts them, Michael shouldn’t get himself into too much trouble.”

I hoped he was right.

“Now tell me, Kate. What in tarnation is going on? Why are you in Oregon, who was this murdered woman, and why do the police suspect Michael of killing her?”

I filled Dale in on everything, starting with Michael’s marriage, continuing through his confrontation with Gabriella, and ending with the police officers’ visit to Shannon’s house. Dale was silent through the entire ten-minute monologue. When I finished the story, he asked a single question. “Michael’s married? Are you kidding me?”

Make that two questions.

I surprised myself by jumping to Michael’s defense. “It wasn’t a real marriage. Gabriella was in the US on a guest worker visa. Michael married her so she could get a green card.”

Dale grumbled under his breath. “The idiot. That’s a felony.”

So was murder. And a much more serious offense than marriage fraud. “Their marriage seems pretty irrelevant right now, Dale. What do we do?”

Dale replied after five interminable seconds of silence. “For now, we wait.”

“Wait?” The word came out sounding more like an accusation than a question. I’d been waiting all day. Waiting had eaten a hole in my stomach. Waiting had pushed Michael into that police car. Waiting could easily bisect my carotid artery.

The tone in Dale’s voice brooked no argument. “Until we get more information, waiting is the best we can do. My attorney friend said he’d call as soon as he knew anything. If we’re lucky, Michael’s situation won’t be nearly as dire as you think.”

Lucky?

If Dale needed luck, Michael was in more trouble than I thought. When Dale represented a client, he never relied on luck. He relied on experience, sharp wit, and a genius grasp of the law. Then again, we were in Oregon, not Washington. Dale might not even be licensed to practice law here.

My mouth went dry. “Dale, I’m scared.”

His voice softened. “Kate, you have to trust me. I’ll help Michael, I promise. Have him call me tonight.” Softness amped up to sternness. “And don’t you go quizzing him without me present, either. You’re his girlfriend. Not his wife.”

“I know that, Dale. You don’t have to remind me. His wife is the one who’s dead.”

“I wasn’t referring to your complicated relationship. Since you’re not married to Michael, you can be compelled to testify against him in court. The less you know, the better.”

The thought sobered me silent.

Dale continued. “I’ll assess everything tonight. If I need to, I’ll head on out to Oregon tomorrow.”

“You’re willing to consult with Michael’s attorney?”

“Heck no. I’ll be his attorney, if he’ll let me.

Relief washed through me. “You’d do that? Come all the way to Cannon Beach and represent Michael?”

“Of course,” Dale chided. “Did you think I wouldn’t? You’re family. Besides, I kinda like that boyfriend of yours.” He paused, and I imagined him frowning. “I used to like him, anyway. I’m beginning to wonder about his character, or at the very least, his common sense. I mean seriously. Not telling you he was married?”

“He made a mistake, Dale, but he’s still the same Michael.” My voice softened. “And I still love him.”

“I know you do, Kate-girl. We all do. Don’t worry yourself. I’ll be his attorney. Unless you think he can find someone better?”

The question, of course, was rhetorical. There was still one potential barrier, however. A barrier I was almost afraid to ask about. “Can you practice law in Oregon?”

Dale chortled. “You think I’d volunteer to be Michael’s attorney if I couldn’t? The bar association part’s easy. Washington and Oregon have a reciprocity agreement. The bigger hurdle is the travel. I’ll need to arrange coverage for the farm, and it’s a ten-hour trip from Orcas to the Oregon coast. The earliest I can get there will be late tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully this is all a big false alarm, and it won’t come to that.”

“Dale, you’re a gem. I can see why Dharma fell for you.”

Dale affected his fake southern drawl. I imagined him blushing underneath his white, Santa-like whiskers. “Well, shucks, Missy Kate. Aren’t you as sweet as a petunia?” His voice grew serious again. “Try not to worry until we know there’s something to worry about. But make sure Michael calls me. Tonight.”

I clicked off the phone and turned to Shannon, who’d been standing over my shoulder for the entire conversation.

“I couldn’t tell from my end,” she said. “Was that good news or bad?”

“Both.” I absently drummed my fingers against the cell phone’s case. “Dale says all we can do right now is wait.”

Shannon frowned. “I’m not very good at waiting.”

“Neither am I, which is why we’re not going to do it.” Dale had told me not to quiz Michael, but he didn’t say not to do anything. I’d spent the past several days refusing to let anyone tell me about Michael and Gabriella. Time for that to change.

I lifted my cell phone again and pressed the autodial button for Rene.

Forty-five minutes later, Rene, Shannon, Bella, and I huddled around a glass-topped table in Shannon’s living room. Rene had laid out a buffet of multicolored tortilla chips, four kinds of dip, and gooey peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. I sat on one end of the couch, notebook and pen at the ready. Rene sat on the other, smothering blue chips with hummus. The rich, garlicky smell would have made my stomach growl if I’d had any appetite. Bella curled between us, delightedly chewing on an extra-large ostrich tendon Rene had brought for her.

Michael wasn’t back from Seaside yet, so our information-gathering session was happening without him. Since it was past the twins’ bedtime, Sam had opted to stay at the rental house with the girls and the puppies.

Frankly, I was glad. As much as I loved spending time with Rene’s family, tonight my monkey mind was swinging on hyperdrive. I could barely muster the attention to put together a complete sentence. I’d never have been able to focus in the midst of sleep-deprived infants and mischief-making labradoodles.

Shannon handed Rene an oversized glass of Chardonnay and perched on the edge of a guest chair. “Okay, Kate. Now that you’ve called this meeting together, what are we doing, besides binge eating and waiting for Michael?”

Rene dipped a yellow chip into a vat of deep red salsa. “Oh, honey, this is no binge; it’s a light snack. And isn’t it obvious? We’re creating our sleuthing plan.”

“Sleuthing plan?” Shannon asked.

Rene cocked her head and eyed Shannon curiously. A textured smear painting of salsa and corn crumbles decorated her chin. “You don’t know, do you?” She leaned over the table, grabbed a cookie with one hand, and pointed at me with the thumb of the other. “Kate here is the yoga equivalent of Sherlock Holmes. I’m her sexy Watson. Kate tracks down killers all the time!”

“That’s a gross exaggeration, Rene,” I said.

“You’ve solved four murders in the past two years. That’s one hundred percent of your cases. The Seattle Police Department doesn’t come close to that solve rate.”

Shannon leaned away from me, body stiff, mouth open. I couldn’t tell if she was impressed, horrified, or a little of both.

“I’ve been peripherally involved in a couple of murder investigations, that’s all,” I assured her. “My mother says it’s some sort of …” I hesitated, trying to figure out how to describe the yogic concept of dharma (life work) without going too deeply into yoga philosophy. “Some sort of gift, I suppose.”

“A gift? Do you mean you’re psychic?” Shannon asked.

“I wish. More like I’m dumb enough to stick my nose into other people’s problems.” I shrugged. “I’ve mainly been lucky in the past. I doubt I can do much to solve Gabriella’s murder, but I’d like to at least wrap my arms around what happened. Otherwise I’ll drive myself nuts pacing the hallway.”

I deliberately downplayed my intentions. Gandhi would take up gunslinging before I’d let Michael get charged with a crime he didn’t commit. But if Shannon was anything like her brother, she’d try to talk me out of getting involved. That was an argument best saved for later. With Michael.

Shannon’s expression was dubious, but she played along. “Okay then, how do we start?”

“Good question,” I replied. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Why don’t you fill me in on the history between Gabriella and Michael?”

Shannon stiffened. “History? Like what?”

“Like how did they meet and why did Michael end up marrying her?”

Shannon took a long, slow sip from her wine glass, as if trying to decide whether or not to answer. When she spoke, she avoided eye contact. “What has Michael told you about their relationship?”

“Not much,” I replied. “Actually, I wouldn’t let him. I wasn’t ready to hear his side of the story.”

Shannon set the glass on the table and frowned. “I don’t think I should talk with you about it behind Michael’s back. It seems disloyal.”

Rene interrupted. “Kate’s trying to help him, remember?”

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.”