Pre-Meditated Murder Page 19

  Come on, Gabriella, talk to me.

  “Kate, what on earth are you doing?”

  Shannon’s voice startled me, and I jumped. I whipped around to face her, knocking the poster off-kilter. It crashed onto the bedspread with a muffled thud, toppled over, and landed facedown.

  “Shannon, you startled me!” I chided.

  She ignored me and pointed at the back of the frame. “What are those?”

  She was pointing at envelopes. Five of them, each stuffed a quarter-inch thick. I pulled off the first and tore it open.

  A stack of hundred-dollar bills stared back at me.

  fifteen

  By the time Shannon and I had finished taking down all of the artwork, we’d counted almost twelve thousand dollars.

  “I don’t get it,” Shannon said. “Didn’t you say Gabby’s bills were all past due?” I nodded. “Why would she risk having her electricity and water turned off if she had all of this money?”

  “I’m not positive, but I have a theory.” I dialed Dale’s cell phone. For the first time in twenty-four hours, my call didn’t go to voicemail. “Dale, thank goodness you answered. We need to talk. I found out some useful information today.” By we, I meant everyone who’d helped with my sleuthing efforts thus far, including Shannon, Sam, and Rene.

  Dale squashed that idea with a firm, absolute, no-arguing-allowed no. He did, however, reluctantly agree to bring Michael—who hadn’t been arrested yet, thank goodness—to the beach house so I could meet with him in Dale’s presence. Shannon was far from happy at being excluded, but she acquiesced.

  Michael and Dale still had business to finish, so we agreed to meet in an hour and a half. I picked up my car at Shannon’s and promised to fill her in on everything I was allowed to share when I saw her the next day at the fun run. In the meantime, she vowed to quiz Michael herself later that night.

  Since Dale forbade anyone but the three of us from being present, Sam and Rene decided to go out for a late dinner in Seaside. Nine o’clock was well past the babies’ bedtime, so I agreed to babysit.

  “I just finished nursing them,” Rene said, “so they should sleep for a few hours. But if they wake up and get fussy, I have some backup breast milk in the fridge.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay being booted out of the house?” I asked.

  Sam smiled. “Are you kidding? A night out on the town with my sexy wife while you’re stuck here playing slave to our evil progeny? Consider yourself lucky if we come back.” His eyes grew serious. “Tell Michael to keep the faith, okay?”

  Bella minded the puppies while I checked on the girls, who were fast asleep dressed in animal print onesies—one giraffe, one elephant. I lightly brushed Alice’s cheek with my fingertips, blew Amelia a good night kiss, carried the baby monitor downstairs, and poured myself a glass of oaky Chardonnay. I took a deep drink, sighed, and refilled the glass. Resolutions to cut back on drinking be damned. Tonight I needed liquid courage.

  Dale’s pickup coughed in the driveway. I threw open the door and for the first time in what felt like a decade, wrapped Michael in a huge, heartfelt hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “I should get almost-arrested more often.” Michael smiled, but the movement seemed forced. Purple-blue smudges bruised the skin under his eyes.

  “You look exhausted,” I said.

  He reached up and brushed the ends of my hair, which were a good eight inches shorter than the last time he’d seen them. “You look fabulous.” I would have chided him for being sarcastic, but the look in his eyes was sincere. I could only assume that exhaustion had struck him blind.

  Dale strode purposefully through the door, all traces of Southern façade gone. “Where can we meet without being overheard?”

  “The house is all ours.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Except for the twins, and they’re no problem. They can’t talk yet, so they won’t be able to testify.” I pinched my chin between my thumb and my forefinger, pretending to think. “Bella, however, may be a problem. We taught her how to speak on command.”

  Dale’s stern expression remained firmly in place.

  I wiggled my eyebrows. “You know, speak. As in bark?”

  Nothing.

  “It was a joke.” I shrugged. “I guess it wasn’t that funny.”

  Dale’s whiskers trembled. “Nothing about this is funny, Kate. I’m one hundred percent serious. You should be, too.”

  So much for my stand-up comedy routine.

  “I am serious, Dale,” I replied. “Nobody’s here except the three of us, the babies, and the dogs. Let’s go to the living room.” I led them inside and sat on the couch. Michael kneeled next to Bella, who was resting on a throw rug, two exhausted puppies curled up next to her chest. She lifted her head, thumped her tail, and flopped back onto her side. An exhausted mother trying not to wake her rambunctious children.

  Michael rubbed her ears, assured her that she was a good girl, and sat next to me. Dale, still all business, perched on the edge of a guest chair and pulled out a legal pad.

  “Okay, Kate. Talk.”

  “That’s not how this is going to work, Dale.” I replied. “You two have been shutting me out, and I’m tired of it.”

  “We haven’t—”

  “Save it, Dale. I know you’ve both been screening my calls.” I turned to Michael. “And Shannon told me about that text message the police found. You know. The one where you supposedly asked Gabriella to meet you at the beach?”

  Michael peered at me earnestly. “I didn’t send that text, Kate, I swear.”

  “Michael!” Dale scolded. “We talked about this. We are here to get information from Kate, not give it to her. Say nothing about your case—to anyone—unless I explicitly give you permission to do so.”

  Now I was getting cranky. “Come on, Dale. This is me, remember?” I gestured to Michael. “I’m on his side.”

  Dale opened his mouth to snark back, then closed his eyes and dropped his head. “God, I hate this.” When he lifted his face again, his expression had softened. “Kate, you’re my friend. Hell, you’re practically family.”

  I waited for the “but.” He didn’t disappoint.

  “But not tonight. Tonight, I’m Michael’s attorney. You are a witness in the case against him. Lord knows what the DA will ask you if the case goes to trial. I’m sorry, but that means we’ll have to keep some secrets from you. Got it?”

  I didn’t like it. Hell, let’s be honest. I hated it. But I understood. I would have told Dale that I agreed, but I didn’t get the chance. Michael interrupted.

  “I don’t care.”

  We both turned to him, confused.

  “No more secrets. Not from Kate. That’s what got me into this mess to begin with. I’m telling her everything.” Dale started to argue, but Michael stopped him. “I’m serious, Dale. You’re my attorney, and you’re probably right. But this is my life. My decision. Kate hears everything.”

  Dale’s lips grew so thin, they disappeared in his whiskers, but he remained silent.

  Michael took my hand. “I didn’t send any texts to Gabriella that night. I didn’t have my cell phone, remember? I thought I’d left it at Shannon’s, but maybe it got taken shortly after I went out.”

  “You think someone stole it?”

  Michael shrugged. “It’s the only theory that makes sense.”

  My spirit lightened. That might be good news. “If you’re right, your phone might lead to the killer.” I glanced at Dale, feeling suddenly hopeful. “Can we trace it?”

  Dale shook his head. “The police already tried. No luck.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Don’t believe everything you see on TV,” Dale said. “It’s darned near impossible to track a cell phone that’s been turned off. If the battery’s been pulled, no one can do it. Not even the CIA.”
r />   Ugh.

  I hated what I was about to say next, but I had to get it out in the open, for Michael as much as for me. “Michael, you blacked out. When you woke up, you were parked near that beach. What if you … what if you did something that you don’t remember?”

  Michael dropped my hand and jumped to his feet. “Kate, how can you ask that? How can you even think it? I’d never kill anyone. Especially not someone I cared about.”

  “Settle down, Michael,” Dale interjected. “She’s not saying anything that the prosecuting attorney won’t say.”

  “Dale’s right,” I said, “but that’s not what I mean. I know you didn’t kill Gabriella, honey. You’re not capable of that level of viciousness. It’s not in your DNA.” I paused. “But are you sure you didn’t text her?”

  For the first time all evening, Dale agreed with me. “It’s the weakest part of our case, Michael. If you don’t remember what you did do that night, how can anyone know for sure what you didn’t?”

  Michael’s jaw clenched. “Actually, I do know. I got wasted, made an ass out of myself, and passed out in a pile of my own puke. I’m an idiot, but the only life I was hell bent on destroying that night was my own. Even if I’d had my phone, I wouldn’t have asked Gabriella to meet me alone on a deserted beach after dark. It wouldn’t have been safe for her.”

  I believed him. “Why didn’t you shut off your cell service when you noticed that the phone was missing?”

  “I assumed it would turn up at Shannon’s. I didn’t figure out that it had been stolen until the police cornered me about that text message.”

  Michael’s story made sense. Not that a jury would believe it.

  “I wish you’d told me about this last night.” I thought for a moment. “Though I’m not sure it changes anything I learned today.”

  “Which was?” Dale asked.

  “In a minute. You haven’t told me everything yet. Shannon said the police have new evidence.”

  In spite of Michael’s earlier resolve, he shot Dale a questioning look before answering. Dale gave him a single, curt nod yes.

  “Two new pieces of evidence, actually. They found a hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy in Gabriella’s files.”

  “Life insurance on Gabriella?”

  “Yes.”

  I had a feeling I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “Who’s the beneficiary?”

  “Me.”

  “Did you know about it?”

  “Yes. I have a policy with her as the beneficiary, too. We took them out when we got married. It was all part of legitimizing the marriage. Both names on the apartment lease, joint credit cards, life insurance policies, photos. The feds put green card marriages under the microscope these days. We didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “How could you afford such high life insurance policies?”

  “We were young and healthy, so the premiums were cheap. We joked that it was our form of a lottery ticket. We planned to cancel them as soon as she got citizenship.”

  I leaned back and frowned. “If Gabriella needed money so badly, why all the drama over the divorce? It would have been more lucrative to kill you.”

  “Your joke’s not nearly as funny as you think,” Dale replied. “That insurance policy gives Michael a hundred thousand more reasons to want Gabriella dead.”

  The heart-wrenching cry of an unhappy infant screeched through the baby monitor. Bella lifted her head and stared toward the sound, ears pricked forward with concern. If I didn’t act quickly, a second baby’s scream would soon follow. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

  I jogged up the stairs and picked up a giraffe-spotted Amelia. Alice slept in the crib next to her like an elephant-adorned angel. I carried Amelia back to the living room, bouncing her against my hip and cooing. “Who’s one of the two cutest babies in the world?”

  Amelia was obviously Rene’s child; flattery worked every time. She stopped crying and reached for my locket, transfixed by the shiny gold.

  I allowed her to play with it and continued the conversation where we’d left off. “Okay. So Michael had a life insurance policy on Gabriella. Lots of married couples have life insurance. He already had motive; he wanted a divorce. How is having life insurance that much worse?”

  Michael’s face turned from gray to a sickly, yellowish green. Neither he nor Dale would make eye contact with me. Dale finally spoke. “There’s something else. The medical examiner released the results of Gabriella’s autopsy.”

  I stopped bouncing Amelia. “Were the police wrong about her cause of death?”

  Dale shook his head. “No. She was beaten to death, probably by a piece of driftwood. They found wood particles in her skull.”

  Grisly, but not new information. “Did they match it to the driftwood at the scene?”

  “They’re still testing, but not so far,” Dale replied. “I suspect the murder weapon is floating somewhere out in the ocean, probably with Michael’s cell phone.”

  “Then what did they find?” I asked.

  Both men remained silent.

  “Spit it out already!”

  Michael swallowed hard, as if trying to clear a bone lodged in his throat. “Gabriella was three months pregnant.”

  I sagged against the arm of the couch, hugging Amelia close. Of course.

  Part of me felt distraught. Horrified, even. Gabriella’s murderer had ended two lives. But mainly I felt a sort of weird, melancholy resolution. “Of course she was pregnant. I should have known.”

  “The baby wasn’t mine, Kate, I swear. I hadn’t seen Gabriella in years.”

  “I know, Michael. That’s not what I mean. Gabriella’s pregnancy explains everything. Why she was demanding money from you, why she was running up bills while stockpiling cash, why she was running away.”

  Dale set down his legal pad. “Stockpiling cash? Running away? What are you talking about?”

  I filled them in on everything I’d learned in the past twenty-four hours: that Gabriella had left a voicemail message quitting her job the night of the murder, that she was past due on her bills, and that we’d found almost twelve thousand dollars in cash hidden behind her artwork. Dale was so fascinated by the new information that he forgot to chastise me for searching Gabriella’s apartment. I finished by handing him a brown paper bag containing the cash-filled envelopes we’d discovered.

  Dale opened the bag, glanced inside, and closed it again. “That’s a lot of cash to carry around in a grocery bag.”

  I shrugged. “I grabbed the bag at Gabriella’s apartment. I was afraid to leave the money there, so I decided to bring it to you.”

  Michael’s expression flickered between confusion and astonishment. “How did Gabriella stockpile that much money? She made decent tips, but the cost of living in Cannon Beach is almost as bad as Seattle. Worse, in some ways. Without me to help cover the rent, Gabriella must have been living paycheck to paycheck.”

  “At least part of it came from cash withdrawals on your joint credit card.” I handed him the statement. “She stopped paying most of her other bills two months ago.” Michael scanned the paper. His brow furrowed. “I think she was stockpiling cash so she could disappear without being traced. That’s why she wanted money from you, too. She even asked Crystal for a loan, supposedly to help you pay off business debts.”

  Michael groaned. “She was planning to stick me with this whole mess, wasn’t she?”

  “Probably,” I admitted. I glanced down at Amelia. Warmth surged from her tiny body to the core of my heart. “Don’t judge her too harshly, Michael. I think she was protecting her child.”

  “What makes you say that?” Dale asked.

  “The timing. She started racking up bills and scamming for money two months ago, which is right about the time she would have realized that she was pregnant.” Amelia cooed, as if ag
reeing with me. “My only question is, why pull the trigger on Tuesday?”

  “What do you mean?” Michael asked.

  “Mona said Gabriella was a good employee. Was she?”

  He nodded.

  “Then she wouldn’t have liked leaving Mona in a lurch. Besides, there was no reason for her to leave before Sandcastle Weekend. She would have raked in tons of tips. She was still in the first trimester, so she could easily have hidden the pregnancy for another week or two. She didn’t have much food, but I didn’t see any evidence that she’d started packing, did you?”

  Michael shook his head no.

  “The money she’d stockpiled was still hidden, too.” I kissed the top of Amelia’s head. “I’m telling you, Gabriella thought she had more time. Something happened on Tuesday. Something that made her speed up her plans.”

  “Maybe the father found out,” Michael volunteered.

  Dale frowned. “Which begs the question, who in the hell is he?”

  “Can’t they do a DNA test?” I asked.

  “Only if they have something to compare it to. The police asked Michael for a sample today, but I wouldn’t let them take it. I told them to get a court order.”

  “Why? A DNA test would prove Michael’s innocence.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. It would only prove that Michael wasn’t the baby’s father. That could hurt us. The DA may claim that Michael killed Gabriella because he found out that she was cheating on him. At this point, our best strategy is to slow the investigation down. The longer we keep Michael out of jail, the more time I’ll have to dismantle the prosecution’s case.”

  I walked with Amelia to the window and stared out at the darkness. Rhythmic white waves crashed in the moonlight, stark harbingers against a backdrop of black. Mesmerizing. Disconcerting. Haunting.

  “Michael, how often did you speak with Gabriella?” I asked.

  “I contacted her to ask for a divorce two months ago, right after you told me you were ready to start a family. Before that, I hadn’t spoken to her since I left Cannon Beach. I was trying to start my life over.”