Murder Strikes a Pose is available now at Whole Life Yoga and will be available at bookstores everywhere in January!
CHAPTER 1
I laid my
body on the cool wood floor, covered up with a blanket, and prepared to die.
Metaphorically,
that is. Corpse Pose’s ten-minute rest always soothed my stressed-out nerves, and for once I didn’t feel guilty about the indulgence. My to-do list was blank, Serenity Yoga’s phone was silent, and I had a whole blissful hour between clients to do my favorite activity: practice yoga.
Even my eclectic Greenwood
neighborhood seemed uncharacteristically quiet, lulled by Seattle’s rare
afternoon sun. The residents of the apartments above the yoga studio were off at
their day jobs; the alcohol-addicted patrons of the block’s two dive bars slept
off their Jim Beam breakfasts; the soccer moms shopping at next door’s upscale
PhinneyWood Market purchased the day’s supplies in unusual silence.
I wiggled my toes
under a Mexican blanket, covered my eyes with a blue satin eye pillow, and inhaled
deeply. The ooey-gooey smell of Mocha Mia’s chocolate caramel cake wafted from
across the street and filled my nostrils with sweet toffee-scented bliss—my
all-time favorite aromatherapy.
Paradise. Simply
paradise.
I released my weight
into the earth and silently coached myself, exactly as I would one of my
students. OK, Kate. Feel your body relax.
Notice the random fluctuations of your mind and—A vicious snarl ripped through the silence, startling me out of my catnap. I sat straight up, eye pillow falling to the floor with an undignified thump.
What the heck?
When had a dog
fighting ring moved into the neighborhood?
A dog fight was
the only plausible explanation for the commotion outside. Bursts of deep,
frantic barking were followed by high-pitched yelping, all punctuated by the
peace-shattering sounds of angry yelling. The phrases I could make out
confirmed my suspicions. This had to be a dog fight, albeit one-sided.
“Control your
dog!”
“Get that vicious
beast out of here!”
And even a
simple, “What the hell?”
I closed the door
between the yoga room and the studio’s lobby, hoping to block out the intrusive
sounds. Snarls, shouts, and an occasional ear-piercing shriek continued to
reverberate right through the wall.
Undaunted, I imagined
that the sounds were merely clouds floating across my mental horizon. Most of
those clouds were dark and ominous, like the deep thunderclouds preceding a
hailstorm. But every so often I heard a soft voice, more like the fluffy clouds
of childhood summers. I couldn’t quite make out his words, but I could tell that
the speaker was a man. From his tone, I assumed he was trying to calm beasts
both human and animal.
It wasn’t
working.
Neither, for that
matter, was my attempted meditation.
I’d obviously
have to shift tactics.
I tried drowning
out the clamor with low, soft chanting. Then I increased the volume. But even
as I belted out Om Santi, my favorite mantra for peace, I felt my jaw start to
tighten. My fingernails bit deeply into my palms. My shoulders crept up to my
ears.
An entirely
different mantra began pounding through my head: Don’t get me angry; you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.
A series of yelps
and the words “I’m calling the cops!” zapped me like a cattle prod. I leapt from
my mat and stormed across the floor, determined to put a stop to that infernal
racket. I hurled open the door and came face-to-face, or rather face-to-snout,
with the source of the commotion. Not more than five feet away from the
studio’s entrance stood a paunchy, dark-haired man and the biggest, skinniest,
meanest-looking German shepherd I had ever seen. Don’t get me wrong. I like
dogs. I love them, in fact. It’s their human counterparts I could sometimes do
without. But this frothing breast was no Rin Tin Tin. A long line of drool
oozed from its mouth. Its sharp white teeth glinted in the sunlight, and its
black wiry topcoat still stood on end from the prior scuffle. The dog was
obviously rabid.
I didn’t
recognize the man standing next to the frightening creature, but I did
recognize his activity. He worked as a vendor for Dollars for Change, a well-regarded local newspaper that published
articles about homelessness and poverty while employing those same homeless
individuals as salespeople. Ordinarily I would have welcomed one of their
vendors outside my business. If nothing else, supporting the paper demonstrated
yoga’s principles of kindness and compassion.
But this was not an ordinary circumstance. I
absolutely could not allow that disgusting dog to raise a ruckus outside my
studio. The prenatal class would have a fit. Suffice it to say that pregnancy
hormones didn’t always leave expecting moms in the best of moods. My moms-to-be
liked their yoga practice. They needed
their yoga practice. And they needed to be serene while doing it. If a noisy
dog fight disturbed their peaceful experience, I’d be the one getting barked
at.
Thinking less
than yogic thoughts, I marched up to the pair, determined to put a stop to the
chaos.
“What in the
world’s going on out here?”
The human half of
the dastardly duo held a leash in one hand, newspapers in the other. He smiled
at me and said, “Sorry about all the noise. I’m George, and this here’s Bella.
What’s your name?”
“Kate Davidson,
but—”
“Well, nice to
meet you, Kate. I’d shake your hand, but mine are full, so Bella will have to
do it instead.”
The vicious beast
walked up and calmly sniffed my hand. I prayed she wasn’t about to ingest my
fingers.
“Bella, say
hello!”
Upon hearing her
owner’s command, the giant hairy monster-dog immediately went into a perfect
sit and sweetly offered me her paw. Maybe she wasn’t rabid after all. Just huge
and ill-mannered.
“Don’t mind
Bella,” he continued. “She’s very friendly to people. She just doesn’t like
other dogs much. She’d be fine if people kept their unruly mutts to themselves,
but they think if their rude dog wants to play, Bella has to as well.” He shook
his head in disgust. “I don’t understand some people!”
I tried to
interrupt, to tell him that his dog
was the problem, but he didn’t give me the chance.
“Bella and I are
new to this neighborhood, and we’re supposed to sell papers near the market. I
tried setting up by the north entrance, but there’s a pet store at that end.
Pete’s Pets, I think it’s called? The owner was a nice enough guy and all, but
selling there was a disaster with all those dogs going in and out. Bella wasn’t
happy at all.” He shrugged. “So I guess we’re going to have to hang out here
instead.”
I bit the inside
of my lip and considered my options. Up close, George wasn’t exactly the
paragon of health I wanted standing outside my business. His friendly smile
exposed yellowed teeth in need of significant dental care, and if the sharp,
ammonia-like smell was any indication, neither he nor Bella had taken a bath in
quite some time. At three-thirty in the afternoon, I could smell whiskey on his
breath, and I suspected this most recent drink hadn’t been his first of the
day. It would also likely be far from his last. I only knew one thing for
certain: if George didn’t frighten my students away, his loud, intimidating,
fur-covered companion would.
I needed them to
leave, but honestly, I didn’t want to say it out loud. After all, I taught yoga
for a living. People expected me to be calm and collected at all times. I
wasn’t allowed to be mean, or even irritated, for that matter. I hesitated as I
tried to come up with the perfect words to make him want to move, if not out of
the neighborhood, then at least across the street.
Fortunately (or
perhaps unfortunately), one of my favorite students picked that very moment to
walk up with her five-month-old Lab pup, Coalie. “Hey, Kate!” she said. “I
hoped I’d run into you! Do you still have space in your Core Strength class
tonight?”
Coalie was as
rude and friendly as Labs everywhere. She couldn’t stop herself if she tried.
She ran up to Bella, wiggling her entire body with glee, and covered Bella’s
muzzle in sloppy wet puppy kisses.
Bella wasted no
time. Faster than a 747 and stronger than a freight train, Bella pinned Coalie
to the ground between her front legs, snarling and air-snapping on either side
of Coalie’s neck. I heard the sound of canine teeth chomping together and
imagined soft puppy bones shattering between them.
My student
screamed. Coalie yelped. George grabbed Bella’s collar while I reached in
between razor-sharp teeth to pull Coalie from the jaws of death. The three of
us wrestled the two dogs apart, but not before my student almost died of heart
failure.
“What’s wrong
with you?” she yelled. “Keep that vicious monster away from my baby!”
George quickly
apologized, but said, “No damage done. Bella was just teaching that pup some
manners.” He pointed at Coalie. “See, it’s all good!”
Coalie, oblivious
with joy, seemed unscathed and ready to dive in again. Tail wagging and butt
wiggling, she pulled with all her might, trying desperately to get back to
Bella.
Bella had other
plans. She sat next to George, glaring directly at that pup with a patented
Clint Eastwood stare. Go ahead, she
seemed to say. Make my day. My
soon-to-be-former student ran off as quickly as her legs would move, dragging
the still-happy puppy behind her.
“See you in class
tonight!” I yelled to her rapidly retreating back. I doubted I’d be seeing her
any time soon.
Yoga reputation
be damned. I had to get rid of this guy.
I put my hands on
my hips and stood nice and tall, taking full advantage of my five-foot-three-inch
frame. “Look. I can’t let you stay here with the dog. She’s obviously
frightening people. You have to leave.” I paused a moment for emphasis, then
added, “Now.”
George stood a
little taller, too. “Look yourself, lady. The last time I checked, I’m standing
on city property. I have every right to be here. You don’t own this sidewalk,
and you can’t stop me from making a living on it.” He glared at me, sharp eyes
unblinking. “We Dollars for Change
vendors are licensed, and no matter how much you don’t like us, the city says
we can be here.”
“There’s no ‘us’
I don’t like,” I replied, frustrated. “It’s your dog. And you may have every
right to be here, but the dog is another story. What do you think Animal
Control will do if I report a vicious dog attacking people outside my store?”
George stepped
back, pulling Bella closer. Seattle had the toughest dangerous dog laws in the
nation. We both knew what would happen if I made that call. “You wouldn’t do
that!” he said. “Bella’s never hurt anyone.”
I planted my feet
stubbornly. “Try me.”
George gave me a
wounded look and gathered his papers, shoulders slumped in depressed
resignation. “OK, we’ll go. But I thought you yoga people were supposed to be
kind.” He shuffled away, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. Bella
followed close by his side.
“Crap,” I muttered,
watching their slow departure. “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.”
He was right.
Like all good yoga teachers, I had extensively studied yoga philosophy and
tried to live by it. The teachings were clear: A yogi should respond to
suffering with active compassion. And George was clearly suffering, whether he
realized that fact or not.
Threatening to
call the cops on George’s dog may have been active, but it wasn’t all that
compassionate, to him or to Bella. I felt like a cad. My solution probably
wasn’t what the teachings had in mind, but it was the best I could come up with
on short notice.
“Hang on there a
minute!” I yelled as I ran to catch up with him. Out of breath, I said, “You’re
right. I overreacted, and I’m sorry. How many papers do you have left to sell
today?”
George stopped
walking. When he turned to look back at me, his eyes sparkled with an
unexpected hint of wry humor. “About thirty.”
The calculations
weren’t difficult. I wasn’t completely broke—yet—but thirty dollars wasn’t a
drop in the bucket. On the other hand, my Monday evening classes were popular,
and I had to get this guy away from the front door. Mentally crossing my
fingers that the toilet wouldn’t break again, I said, “Wait here. I’ll be right
back.” I hurried back to the studio and grabbed thirty dollars from the cash
box.
“If I buy all of
your papers, will you be done for the day?”“Yes ma’am, and that would be very kind of you.” He gave me a broad, yellow-toothed smile. “Bella and I appreciate it very much.”
He took the
money, left the papers, and wandered off, whistling. Bella happily trotted
behind him.
“Well, that
wasn’t so difficult,” I said, patting myself on the back. “I should follow the
teachings more often!” I went back inside and finished my considerably
shortened practice. I chose to ignore the quiet voice in my head telling me I’d
just made a huge mistake.Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle, and check out my author page for information about the Downward Dog Mysteries series. MURDER STRIKES A POSE is available for preorder now from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Whole Life Yoga, and other retailers!
7 comments:
Congratulations on receiving your books, Tracy. I love the beginning. Looking forward to reading it!
Congratulations! It is so exciting to see the actual book for the first time. Great beginning.
Thanks, ladies! I hope you read and love it! And yes, it is VERY exciting.
I'm SO happy for you! I hope it sells like gang busters! Chrystle
Thanks, Chrystle!
Just received my signed copy in the mail--picture me dancing with excitement!
Good thing Santa's already been here--I'm going to be very naughty and quit working on book 2's draft and spend the afternoon enjoying your book!
Thanks, Susan! I SO HOPE you love the book!
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