Pre-Meditated Murder Page 22

  The organizers couldn’t have hoped for a better day. The weather was a perfect blend of early fall crispness and late summer warmth. Haystack Rock stood like a green-black sentry watching over rainbow-colored kites that dotted a bright blue sky. The huge basalt formation was Cannon Beach’s most famous attraction: a bell-curve-shaped monolith that was an ecosystem all to itself, providing a home for orange and purple starfish, green sea anemones, and orange-billed puffins.

  An ecosystem that had been invaded.

  I felt surprisingly melancholy as we walked along newly dug tire tracks toward the sound of the crowd. It was as if the tourists—Michael and myself included—were an infestation. A parasite of some kind. I missed the beach’s quiet, natural beauty. The rhythmic whisper of waves against sand. Fearless seagulls searching for sand dollars. Scatterings of driftwood that Bella could chase to her heart’s content.

  Fortunately, the human invasion would be short-lived. The evidence of today’s projects, washed away by tomorrow morning. That thought made me sad, too. So much in life was temporary. What took a lifetime to build could be whisked away in a heartbeat, no matter how much we wanted to hold on to it.

  Good lord, Kate. Get a grip. Remember the teachings. Be. Here. Now.

  Here now was pretty darned good. Here now was worth cherishing. I reached over and grabbed Michael’s hand. He glanced at me as if surprised, then interlaced his fingers with mine. The connection felt warm. Comforting. Right. My sadness didn’t disappear, but it lightened.

  Michael pointed to a canopy topped by a lemon yellow sign with the word Refreshments painted on it in bold black letters. Bella lifted her nose and sniffed, clearly scenting fresh-grilled hamburgers. “If we get separated, go there,” he said.

  “Consider us separated,” Rene replied. “I’m starving!” She tore off toward the food tent, dragging along two bewildered puppies.

  “Rene, wait!” Sam yelled, jogging after her. The twins bounced like brunette and blonde bobbleheads over his shoulders.

  “Want to eat?” Michael asked. “There aren’t many vegetarian options, but they usually have grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” I gestured toward Rene, who was angling her way to the front of the line. “I’d rather check out the sandcastles. Let’s wait until she goes back for round two.”

  The contest area had been broken into at least fifty thirty-by-thirty-foot squares, each delineated by four metal stakes linked together with green gardening twine. Not far away, ten-foot-diameter water holes had been dug into the beach. Mini-mountains of sand were piled next to them. Artists hurried back and forth from the sand piles, carrying raw materials for their creations in five-gallon buckets. Back at the plots, their team members poured the sand into frames, wetted it with water, and stomped the mixture solid. T-shirts proudly advertised team names ranging from Team Oyster to Boogie Monster to True Grit.

  As the time moved closer to one o’clock, the crowds began to converge. I’d been surprised at the number of people in Cannon Beach a few days ago, but that was nothing. Thousands upon thousands of people flooded the area around Haystack Rock. I saw many of the locals I’d spoken with earlier, but in the spirit of keeping my head low, I avoided them.

  Von and a team called the Sand Doggers were creating a giant dog house complete with a ten-foot-long wiener dog. Jimmy’s mother, Zoey, was there with an older version of herself that I assumed was her mother. Both tried valiantly—and futilely—to hold on to the toddler. I was pretty sure I even glimpsed Crystal’s pink-tinted hair.

  The only potential buzz killers were a half-dozen police officers gathered around their white and blue police SUV. I shaded my eyes and squinted into the light. Officer Alex, dressed in her familiar blue-black uniform, chatted with a blonde officer dressed in brown. Officer Boyle wasn’t with them.

  By one-thirty, the atmosphere was thick with swarms of people, the voices of happy beachgoers, and the energy of too many people crowded into too small a space. Rene—who reunited with us after inhaling two hot dogs—asked Michael to watch the puppies while she and I tried to elbow our way closer to the exhibits. No matter how close I got, I could still barely see. The contest area was surrounded by too many people, most of whom were significantly taller than my five-foot three-inch frame. All Jimmy would be able to see from his three-foot-tall perspective would be the back pockets of strangers. No wonder he tried to escape. Who wouldn’t want to leave that sight behind?

  At twenty minutes before two, the artists traded their shovels for water sprayers, screwdrivers, chisels, and putty knives. Their expressions were serious, their voices harried. Sandcastle Picassos at work.

  By the time the ending whistle blew at two, I’d come to one firm conclusion: the term sandcastle was an obvious misnomer. Castles were the definite minority. The creations included Komodo dragons, gorgeous sea princesses, human-sized chess sets, and yes, even a ten-foot-tall castle, dragon and moat included. My favorite was a family of bullfrogs sunning themselves on a half-dozen lily pads. I had so much fun that I almost forgot about Gabriella’s murder. Almost.

  An announcer came over the loudspeaker. “Thank you for attending the fifty-third annual Cannon Beach Sandcastle Contest. The time is now two-thirty. Please remove your vehicles from the beach no later than three. The Family Fun Fest and 5K Fun Run begins at Whale Park at three. Join us back here for the bonfire and beach concert at eight.”

  “That was amazing,” Rene said as we trekked back to the cars.

  “Are you coming with us to the run?” I asked.

  Rene and Sam exchanged the look of exhausted parents everywhere. “Sorry, the twins are wiped out and so are we.” He reached down and ruffled Ricky’s ears. “These two monsters even look sleepy. We’re heading back to the house.”

  Michael helped them load the puppies into their crate. I didn’t think it was possible, but the bruises under his eyes seemed darker than they had earlier.

  “You look beat, too,” I said. “Why don’t you and Bella go back to the beach house with Rene and Sam? I’ll move the Honda and park closer to the fun run. After all, I’m the only crazy person who agreed to work this afternoon.”

  Michael shook his head vehemently. “Not a chance. I’d love to watch you teach, and I know where to find the best parking spots. Besides, Shannon needs the moral support. The run is usually the least popular event of the weekend, and Shannon’s really put her heart into it. She’s convinced that if it goes well, she can get Cannon Beach to sponsor a half marathon next spring.” He sighed. “I have a feeling she’s going to be disappointed. We may be the only two people there.”

  “In that case, I’ll teach yoga. You do the running.” Jogging was not in my repertoire.

  “Yeah, take Michael with you,” Rene quipped. “The run will be good practice for him. He needs to get in shape so he can run from the cops.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not funny, Rene.”

  But honestly, it was. Even Michael managed to crack a smile. I truly hoped her words wouldn’t be prophetic.

  eighteen

  Michael was wrong. Plenty of people attended the run. Hundreds, by my estimation. Dressed in a variety of shorts, jeans, T-shirts, and running gear, they all looked ready to have a good time. This part of the beach was much less crowded than the sandcastle competition’s location had been, so I traded Bella’s short leash for her normal six-foot variety. Bella immediately showed her teeth to a standard poodle.

  “No mischief from you, missy, or there’ll be no chew treats for you tonight,” I said. Bella seemed affronted by the idea.

  Michael and I found Shannon at the registration booth, which had been set up under the gazebo in nearby Whale Park. The small, grassy park provided easy beach access, picnic tables, and restrooms, but it was most famous for its namesake: a ten-foot long, cedar statue of a whale. A large handmade sign declared, Join us at four-thirty for a p
ost-run yoga class taught by Seattle Master Teacher, Kate Davidson!

  Shannon jogged up to us and gave Bella a hug—a move universally hated by most canines.

  “Easy, Bella,” I whispered.

  Bella sneezed to show her frustration but otherwise didn’t react. She might score a treat tonight after all.

  Shannon released Bella and peered earnestly at Michael. “How are you? Dale told me he has everything under control, but he wouldn’t give me any details. I’ve been so worried that it’s been hard to concentrate on the festival!”

  Michael’s smile looked so genuine, it almost fooled me. “I’m good, Shannon. Really. Dale has a plan. A good one. You can stop worrying now.”

  Liar. But I didn’t contradict him. We were, after all, under Dale’s gag order. I pointed to the sign and changed the subject instead. “Master Teacher?”

  “Well, I needed to say something. ‘Post-run stretch substitute’ didn’t have the same ring. I have to impress the masses, don’t I?”

  “Masses is right,” I replied. “What a huge turnout!”

  “I know. I can’t believe it,” Shannon replied. “There are over four times as many people as last year. I guess all that advertising paid off.”

  “The ice cream social afterwards is brilliant,” Michael said. “Who thought up that idea?”

  Shannon pointed her thumb at her chest. “Yours truly. Nothing brings people together like free ice cream. With four ice cream parlors in town, we had plenty of portable coolers. All I had to do was convince them that donating a few gallons of inventory would be good advertising.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” I asked. “The ice cream social is after the yoga class, right?” Yoga is traditionally practiced on an empty stomach, but that wasn’t why I asked. I had a feeling that once the free sweets disappeared, my yoga students would, too.

  Shannon handed me a printed schedule. “The event runs from three to six. We’ll kick it off with the warm-up class and a few kid competitions at three. The 5K run begins at three-thirty, and your yoga class will start at four-thirty. We start dishing out ice cream an hour later.”

  “Is that enough time?” I asked.

  “Aren’t most yoga classes an hour long?”

  “They’re usually longer, but I can work with an hour, no problem. I’m concerned about the run. There’s only an hour between when it starts and the yoga class. Are you sure people will be finished by then?”

  “You’re obviously no jogger, Kate. Five kilometers is a little over three miles. Most people finish in thirty minutes or so. My grandma can leisurely walk it in an hour.”

  Which meant that it would have taken Bella and me twice that long.

  Shannon waved to someone across the crowd. “Sorry, I have to go. You two enjoy yourselves. Take Bella on the run if you want to. Just make sure that you’re back by four-fifteen. She pointed to a roped-off area near the water. Your class will be over there.” She gave Michael a hug. “Thanks for coming, Baby Brother. It means the world.” They bumped knuckles and she jogged off to her friend.

  When she was halfway down the beach, I turned to Michael. “I’m surprised Shannon didn’t press you for details about Dale’s so-called plan.”

  “I’m not. When she’s working, she shuts out the rest of the world.”

  “What’s going to happen when she finds out you were lying? About Dale having a plan, that is.”

  “It’s not lying, it’s wishful thinking. Besides, I don’t want to think about that right now. Let’s go back to pretending everything’s normal, okay?”

  Which was a fabulous idea for the ten minutes it lasted.

  Everyone we’d successfully avoided at the sandcastle competition sought us out at the fun run. Von and his boyfriend Andreas found us first. Von strode up to Michael, looking paradoxically joyful, wary, and serious at the same time. He pointedly ignored me. Still angry about my earlier subterfuge, I assumed.

  He placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder, which earned him a foul look from Andreas. Bella nudged Von’s leg, clearly hoping he’d brought her a cookie. He ignored her, too. Clearly anyone—even an adorable, cookie-loving canine—who hung out with me was on Von’s do-not-befriend list.

  He spoke to Michael in an almost tender voice. “I’m sorry about Gabriella.”

  Michael’s face grew pink, but his expression remained somber. “Thanks.” He placed his hand on my forearm. “This is my—” He stumbled at the end of the sentence. “This is Kate.”

  Von stiffened. “I know. We’ve met.”

  Goose bumps covered my forearms. His tone was that cold. I tried to diffuse the tension between us by offering pretend sympathy. I pointed at the bandage still covering his forearm. “How’s that bite healing? Puppy teeth are the worst.”

  Wrong move.

  Andreas’s eyes opened wide. He grabbed Von’s arm and twisted it back and forth, as if examining the wound through the bandage. “Bite? You told me you cut yourself.”

  Von groaned.

  Andreas machine-gunned questions at him in rapid-fire succession. “Did you go to the hospital? What did the doctor say? Do you need stitches? Are you on antibiotics?” His eyes widened. “Oh good lord, what if it had rabies!”

  “Thanks a lot,” Von grumbled at me under his breath. He yanked his arm away from Andreas. “I didn’t go to the doctor,” he snapped. “It was a puppy, for God’s sake. Puppies bite.”

  Andreas jolted. “Don’t grump at me like I’m the one being unreasonable. You lied to me.”

  “I was afraid that you’d go all crazy-hypochondriac, as usual.” Von’s expression grew cruel. “Looks like I was right.”

  The two men continued arguing, but I tuned out their words, suddenly overwhelmed by an uncomfortable suspicion. How had Von really injured that arm? Did the bandage cover a cut, a dog bite, or something significantly more incriminating? Like a wound obtained in a late-night struggle with an unarmed woman?

  The hair on my arms quivered. Von was obviously fond of Michael—maybe even romantically. He’d resented Gabriella. I’d heard him disparage her under his breath. Was that enough of a motive to kill her?

  I would have continued puzzling out Von’s motives but a high-pitched squeal interrupted my thoughts. “Michael!” Crystal threw her arms around Michael’s neck. He stiffened at first, then returned her hug.

  “I’m so glad you haven’t been arrested,” she said. “What happened to Gabby was horrible, but I don’t believe you hurt her. Not for a second. None of us do.”

  A low, seething voice came from behind us. “Speak for yourself.”

  Boyle.

  He glared at Michael, his upper lip trembling. “You have a hell of a lot of nerve coming here.”

  We all reacted to Boyle’s unwelcome arrival. I gasped and tightened Bella’s leash. Michael tensed; Von frowned; Andreas flinched; Bella growled. Crystal’s expression hovered somewhere between wariness and confusion.

  “Easy, girl,” I said to Bella automatically. “This is our friend.”

  Bella usually reacted to those words by sitting and offering the stranger her paw. Not this time. She remained standing at high alert, teeth bared, leaning toward Boyle. Go ahead, she seemed to say. Make my day.

  Officer Boyle flexed and unflexed his fists, laser-focused on Michael the same way Bella was focused on him. “If it weren’t for your fancy lawyer, you’d be in a jail cell in Astoria right now. Hell, if I had my way, you’d be swinging from the end of a noose. You certainly wouldn’t be sauntering around town living it up with your mistress.” He brought his beet-red face to within an inch of Michael’s. “Make no mistake, mister. You. Will. Fry.”

  A low, threatening growl vibrated from deep in Bella’s throat. Boyle leveled a hard stare back at her, right hand hovering dangerously close to his gun. “Oh, please. Give me an excuse. I’d love to put a bullet between your e
yes, too.”

  I grabbed Bella’s collar and backed her away. “Bella, be quiet.” I leaned down to her ear and whispered, “He has a gun!”

  Michael’s growl sounded more threatening than Bella’s. “Leave them alone. Kate and Bella had nothing to do with Gabby’s death, and you know it. Neither did I. If you had enough evidence to arrest me, you’d have done it already. Back off or I’ll sue you for harassment.”

  As threats went, it was pretty darned empty, but it was the only leverage Michael had.

  Boyle sneered. “Try it. I guarantee you won’t like the results. Soon you’ll be mine, trapped inside a cell. Jail’s a dangerous place, you know …”

  The radio on Officer Boyle’s shoulder crackled. He kept his eyes locked on Michael but spoke into the microphone. “Boyle here. Go ahead.” Garbled static obscured the reply. “I’m on a code eight.” More static. “Be there in five. Over and out.” He turned back to Michael. “This isn’t over.” He marched toward the beach and disappeared behind the carved whale.

  Crystal stared after Officer Boyle, slowly shaking her head. “What a jerk,” she mumbled.

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “No, not really. I mean, a little. I’ve seen him around.” Her guarded expression belied her words. I would have pressed her further, but I didn’t get the chance. She kissed Michael’s cheek and said, “I need to sign in for the run. Everything is going to be okay, I promise.” She joined the growing line at the registration table. Andreas and Von followed behind her, still grumbling at each other.

  I waited until they were all out of hearing range before I spoke. “So much for pretending things are normal.”

  Michael didn’t reply.

  I squeezed his arm. “Maybe Boyle’s right, in a way. Dale told us to keep a low profile. You probably shouldn’t be here.” I handed him my car keys. “There are more than enough people to support Shannon. Take Bella and go back to Rene’s.”