Pre-Meditated Murder Read online

  “For most of the time.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual?”

  “Not really, but I wasn’t exactly looking around. I basically stuck to the living room and tried to avoid Boyle. I didn’t see any envelopes stuffed with money, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “No, I mean the pictures of you and Gabriella.” I swallowed. “There were a lot of them. In the living room and in the bedroom.”

  “We were creating a fictional life, Kate. We needed more than a single wedding snapshot.”

  “Shannon told me that they weren’t on display when you lived in the apartment.”

  “A couple of them were, but no, not all of them. Not by a long shot. I assume Gabriella put them up after I left. Having us plastered all over the house probably made my moving raise fewer suspicions.”

  I handed him the paper. “What about this?”

  Michael glanced at it, then did a double take. His eyes slowly scanned the letter from beginning to end. When he finished, he handed it back to me. “Where did this come from?”

  “Gabriella had it on display in the kitchen.”

  “I didn’t write it, Kate. I swear.”

  “I know. Any idea who did? Could it have been Gabriella?”

  Michael examined the signature. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

  “Shannon gave me the gist of it, but I don’t speak Spanish. What does it say?”

  “Not much. Just that I miss her and I’ll be back for her soon. This letter makes no sense. Why would she write it to herself ? Displaying the photos, sure. I get that. Anyone who stopped by would see them. But how many guests would feel they should read a personal letter?”

  I didn’t have an answer. It didn’t make sense to me either.

  Michael stood. “Look, I’m exhausted. Can we start this conversation again in the morning? Maybe it will all make sense after a good night’s sleep.”

  Part of me wanted to let him go. The man was obviously dead on his feet. I couldn’t. Dale might be confident, but I wasn’t: Michael could be arrested at any moment. The time for avoidance was over, whether I liked it or not.

  “Not yet. We need to talk about us.”

  Michael sagged back onto the couch, looking deflated. Like he knew where the conversation was headed and didn’t want to go there.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak. “Michael, I get it now. I understand why you felt compelled to help Gabriella even though it meant breaking the law. The more I learn about her, the more I wish I could have helped her myself.”

  Michael replied with a single word. “But?”

  “But what I don’t understand—what I can’t understand—is why in the eighteen months we’ve been together, you never told me.”

  Michael’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t speak. His silence was punctuated only by a ticking clock and the rumble of Bella’s contented snoring. I continued. “Committing to our relationship was tough for me, Michael. You knew that. Why screw it up this way?”

  He stood and walked to the fireplace. “I wasn’t the only one who avoided talking about my past, Kate. You hid plenty from me, too.”

  He was right. I’d let him believe that my mother was dead, at least until she got arrested for murder. An indiscretion about which I’d been chastised severely.

  “You’re right, I did. And you hated it, which is what upsets me the most. How could you harass me about not being open with you when you were hiding something epic—a marriage, for God’s sake—from me?”

  Michael kneeled next to Bella and rubbed her neck, I assumed to avoid making eye contact. “Would you believe me if I said it seemed like a good idea at the time?”

  I didn’t reply. Then again, I don’t think he expected me to.

  He stood and faced me again. “I don’t know, Kate. I liked you when we first met, but I never intended to get serious with anyone. Then we had that amazing first date and I fell for you.”

  “I fell for you, too.”

  “Really? Sure didn’t feel like it at the time. You were like that Katy Perry song. You ran so hot and cold, I felt like I was dating two different people.”

  I nodded. “I was pretty crazy there for a while.”

  “With all of the fighting we did, I didn’t think we’d be together long enough for my arrangement with Gabby to matter.”

  “How could it not matter?”

  “I was only married on paper, so I wasn’t cheating, and you acted like you’d never commit to a long-term relationship. You practically dog paddled across Puget Sound when you thought I was going to propose on Orcas.”

  His memory of that weekend wasn’t exaggerated, unfortunately.

  “After the deaths on Orcas, you changed. We got serious. By the time we moved in together. I thought it was too late.”

  “Too late to be honest with me?”

  He didn’t reply, at least not directly. “No matter how often we discussed our future, you never mentioned getting married. Not once. Given what had happened between Dharma and your father, I assumed you were against it.”

  “Even when I started talking about having kids?”

  “That was only two months ago. Like I said, by then it felt way too late. So I decided to ask Gabby for a low-key divorce.” He frowned. “I deluded myself that you’d never need to know.”

  “That’s pretty lame, Michael.”

  “I was a coward. I know that now. Believe me, though, I never meant to hurt you.”

  “But you did. You hurt me a lot.”

  “I know, but no matter how much I want to, I can’t go back and change it. The question is, what do we do now? If by some miracle I don’t end up in prison, are we ever going to get past this?”

  I gave him the only honest answer I could. “I hope so.” I sighed. “You’re right. It’s late, we’re both exhausted, and we need rest.” I stood and patted my thigh. “Come on, Bella, let’s go to bed.” I desperately wanted to invite Michael to join us. I could tell Michael wanted it, too.

  I almost did.

  I lifted my hand to take his, then stopped and dropped it back to my side. If we went upstairs together, we’d make love. Before we took that step again, I needed to know that I could commit to Michael without reservation. We both deserved that much. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  I trudged up the stairs, Bella reluctantly following behind me. She stopped on the landing and gazed at Michael, concern clouding her soulful brown eyes. I kneeled next to her and whispered, “It’s okay, sweetie. He needs you tonight more than I do.”

  My confused canine trotted back downstairs, stood next to Michael, and leaned her weight into his thigh.

  “Looks like you’re on dog duty tonight,” I said.

  Michael smiled at me sadly and mouthed the words thank you. The bedroom door clicked hollowly behind me.

  seventeen

  The next morning came early. Earlier still for Rene and Sam, who had come home well after midnight, then spent the rest of the night placating unhappy twins and trying to calm overly stimulated puppies. If Sam was surprised to come downstairs and find Michael sipping coffee at the kitchen table, he didn’t show it.

  Rene was a different story entirely. She burst into my room, chanting in a voice so chipper it should have come from a purple dinosaur, “Wake up, sleepyhead! It’s almost noon!”

  I sat bolt upright and yelped. “Geez Rene! You scared the crap out of me.” I glanced at the alarm clock. “Eight o’clock? You seriously barged in here and woke me up at eight o’clock? You’re lucky I don’t sleep with a gun.”

  “What, you shoot everybody who gives you a personal wake-up call?”

  “I do if they sound as chipper as you do.” I held the sheets to my chest with one hand and reached toward Rene with the opposite, doing my best impression of a bedbound zombie. “Caffeine. Must have caff
eine.”

  “Funny, Kate. Consider yourself lucky that I didn’t get you up earlier. I’ve been on pins and needles since Alice got me up at five. Michael’s making breakfast, but Sam refuses to let me interrogate him, so I’ve been stuck waiting for you. Let’s start with the most important item first. Are you two back together?”

  I ignored her diatribe and, more importantly, her question. “You’re letting Michael cook? I hope you enjoy scraping eggs off the ceiling.”

  “Stop changing the subject,” Rene grumbled. “Besides, I just came from the kitchen and it’s not bad. I think you’ve been exaggerating about his messiness. Now spill. Are. You. Two. Back. Together?” She grinned, exposing a mouth full of shiny, white, meddlesome teeth. A ferret who’d learned how to open the sock drawer. “Oooooh. Maybe that’s why you’re so sleepy. Did you two stay up all night playing conjugal visit?”

  “Sorry to ruin your fantasy, but Michael spent the night in the downstairs bedroom with Bella.”

  Rene’s grin wrinkled into a scowl. “Kate, what is wrong with you? Forgive the guy already! You belong with Michael and you know it!”

  She was right, of course. After a full night’s rest, I was on the cusp of admitting it too. I loved Michael. That had never been in doubt. I needed Michael. That was also a no-brainer. One question still haunted me: could I trust him?

  I was beginning to realize that the answer was yes. Michael was a good man. He’d made a mistake—a big one—but he’d never intended to hurt me. Rebuilding our relationship might take a while, but for the first time in almost a week, I believed it could happen.

  Provided the universe gave us a chance.

  “I’m not giving up on Michael and me, but the first step to our happily ever after is keeping him off of death row, and that might not be easy.”

  Rene winced. “My conjugal visit joke wasn’t funny, was it?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, we all could use a little humor right now.”

  Rene perched on the edge of the bed, all flippancy gone. “Seriously, Kate. What happened last night?”

  I gave Rene an outline of what Dale, Michael and I had discussed, focusing primarily on the details the police already knew. Namely, Gabriella’s life insurance policy and her pregnancy. I wanted to tell her my suspicions about Officer Boyle, but Dale’s stern admonishment to not talk about it had scared me to silence.

  Rene wrinkled her brow. “That’s everything?”

  I didn’t reply.

  “Why do I get the feeling that you’re holding out on me?”

  “Because I am. I’m sorry, Rene, but that’s all I can tell you. I’ll fill you in on everything else as soon as I can, but for now, Dale has sworn me to secrecy.”

  Rene was usually nosier than a small-town spinster, but she didn’t press me. A Herculean effort that must have used every last drop of her willpower. “I’ll hold you to that. In the meantime, what are your sleuthing plans for today?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “There’s no need to lie, Kate. A simple ‘I can’t tell you’ would suffice.”

  “I’m not lying,” I insisted. “Dale went to Portland to meet with a private investigator, and he asked Michael and me to keep our heads down until he gets back.” I shrugged. “So I guess we play tourist at the festival for the day.”

  Michael’s voice called from the kitchen. “Go get her, Bella!”

  “Oh no! Rene, take cover!” I yelled.

  A hundred-pound, fur-covered cannonball charged up the stairs. I covered my head and curled into a side-lying fetal position in a futile attempt to protect my stomach. Bella crashed through the door and flew onto the center of the bed—or rather onto my body, which was lying on top of it. She pranced back and forth across the mattress with pure German shepherd abandon, scratching the covers and licking at my face.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “It’s good to see you too. It’s only been eight hours, you know.” I popped out from under the covers and scratched my fingernails up and down her ribs. “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  Bella tilted her head. Hungry? Me? Always!

  I raised my voice loud enough for Michael to hear. “I’m up already. Remember, payback’s a bitch.”

  A toothbrushing and a quick comb-through of my hair later, the three of us meandered downstairs to an aroma so heavenly, it was worth scraping bacon grease off the windows. Tomatoes, peppers, cheese, onions, and the tiniest hint of garlic. Obviously one of Michael’s famous omelets. The scent of cinnamon-laced vanilla hinted that he’d baked cinnamon rolls for dessert.

  Michael looked up from a spattering skillet. “It’s about time you got down here. Rene had some soft tofu in the fridge, so I made you a tofu scramble. The rest of us are having omelets. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and pull up a chair. The cinnamon rolls are almost done.”

  I would have opened my mouth to thank him, but I was shocked silent. A single thought resonated through my brain. Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?

  The kitchen was spotless. Sure, there were a few dirty dishes, but they were neatly stacked in the sink. The stovetop had been wiped clean. The dishtowel, folded in a perfectly aligned rectangle on the counter beside it. I surreptitiously glanced up at the ceiling and along the floor. Nothing. Even Bella looked confused. Where were all of the tasty food droppings?

  “I see Sam got stuck with cleanup duty,” I said.

  Sam shook his head. “Not me. This is all Michael’s doing.”

  Michael had cleaned while he cooked? Inconceivable. Cooking, for Michael, was an exercise of chaotic creativity, done with the joyful abandon of a child stomping through mud puddles. Neatness ruined the fun. At first I assumed that the out-of-character cleanliness was done in a valiant effort to placate me. But one look in Michael’s clouded eyes and I realized pleasing me had nothing to do with it. He was overwhelmed. My normally laissez-faire boyfriend was struggling—trying to create order in a newly unpredictable life.

  The realization made my whole body feel heavy.

  He smiled, but the expression didn’t seem genuine. “Go on, sit.”

  I sat.

  We ate breakfast, then spent a surreal morning pretending to be friends on vacation, making small talk while focusing on the mundane details of life with three dogs and two infants. Feeding, walking, diapering, and entertaining. We completely ignored the fact that Michael could be whisked away in an instant.

  It was our new normal. A weird but somehow comforting routine of denial. I convinced myself that my avoidance was enlightened, not simply a distraction. Yoga, after all, teaches us to live in the moment. To not angst about the past. To not worry about the future. And each wonderful moment I spent with my loved ones that morning was precious. So, like a child cowering under the covers, I pretended that if I couldn’t see the bogeyman, he couldn’t see me. It was a delusion, of course, but man did it feel good at the time.

  We continued our pretense of normalcy until almost noon, when we loaded up the twins and headed off for the Sandcastle Festival. Michael and I drove in the Honda; Sam and Rene followed with the twins in the Volvo. Bella sat with her rear in our back seat and her head pressed through the bucket seats to the front, obviously ecstatic that her pack had reunited. I pulled out my cell phone and glanced at the screen. Dale hadn’t called.

  “Kate, can I ask you a favor?” Michael asked.

  “What?”

  “Can you leave your cell alone for a while? If Dale calls, we’ll hear it. I’d like to act like everything’s normal for a few hours.”

  “Michael, I—”

  “I know it’s not real. I know nothing has changed. But can we pretend?” His voice trembled. “If things go sideways, I want to remember one great day.”

  I smiled. “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say that it’s a great idea.” I paused, hoping I wasn’t abou
t to lie. “This is all going to work out, Michael. I promise.”

  Blissful denial.

  Our two-car caravan pulled into Tolovana Beach’s completely packed parking lot at twelve-fifteen. “Wow, the lot’s full already,” I said. “I thought the judging wasn’t until two.”

  “It isn’t,” Michael said, “but the teams started working at eleven. People get here early to watch from the start. It’s like one of those reality cake decorating shows. Truly, you’re not going to believe it.”

  “I’m not going to see it,” I countered. “We’ll never find a parking space.”

  “No problem,” Michael replied. “Sandcastle competition day is the one day each year that cars are allowed on the beach.” He pointed to a sign in front of the iconic Mo’s restaurant: All vehicles must be off the beach no later than 3 p.m.

  “What happens if we’re still parked there after three? The fun run doesn’t start until three-thirty, and I have to teach yoga afterwards.”

  “We’ll be long gone before three, unless you want to wave goodbye to the Honda as it floats out to sea. Don’t worry. There’s a huge exodus after the judging. We’ll move the car then.”

  I chewed on my lower lip, doubtful.

  “Seriously, Kate. Don’t worry. After fifty-two years of running this event, the committee has it down to a science. Trust me.”

  I wasn’t completely comfortable, but I agreed. A teenager wearing a kelly green 4-H T-shirt directed us to a makeshift parking area that was eight cars deep and stretched a quarter-mile down the beach. We parked next to Sam and Rene and began the complex series of tasks required for a day trip with four adults, three dogs, and two babies. I hooked on Bella’s two-foot-long city lead. Sam inserted the twins into their tandem backpack. Rene held a flexi-lead in each hand—one attached to Ricky’s collar, the other to Lucy’s. An ill-advised setup that would inevitably result in her being split in half like a wishbone.

  “Rene, didn’t you bring shorter leashes?”

  “The pups like to roam.”

  Novice.

  Michael was stuck with pack mule duty. He slung a diaper bag over each shoulder and tucked three dogs’ worth of waste bags into his pockets. He pointed north, toward Cannon Beach’s majestic Haystack Rock. “The sandcastle contest is that way.”