Murder Is Secondary by Diane Weiner Page A

said she did. Didn’t that lady at lunch, the media specialist, say that Julie had a teenage son? And didn’t she say something about Julie’s son developing some sort of test for diabetes and winning some award because his dad had died from complications from the disease? Come to think of it, maybe Kaitlyn Chichester really wasn’t dead in spite of the obituary.
    Maybe Kaitlyn/Julie had run away to escape Zach. I’ll bet that’s where that scar came from , she thought. If she had run away, she would have had to appease her son’s curiosity when he became old enough to ask questions about his father. Zach actually has diabetes. Maybe Julie was inspired by a little wishful thinking and told Joey that his father had died from it. That way he’d never go looking for him.
    So that was Zach’s game. He had found out that Kaitlyn/Julie and his son were still alive and he had gone looking for them. God help them , thought Dalia. She had endured years and years of abuse from Zach, right up until the day she had told him she was pregnant. She could only imagine the kind of abuse he must have inflicted on Julie. Maybe he was even hurting their son. That man was completely nuts. Dalia would have left him years ago, but he always threatened that he would hunt her down and kill her if she did. Besides, she’d had no means of supporting herself. That was all changing though. She’d soon be free of that monster. She needed to call Phillip and fill him in on this latest news. He’d know how to handle it.
    Julie grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and tore open a pack of peanut M&M’s. She had to warn Julie. This was not going to end well for her if Zach wasn’t stopped. She couldn’t even remember Julie’s last name. She went back to the fridge and traded the water for a miniature bourbon. Then she remembered the baby shower. Lynette’s baby shower was Saturday night at Susan’s house. Surely Julie would be there and she’d be blindsided when Zach walked in. Susan had invited them to the shower the night they went over there for dinner. She had to warn Julie before it was too late. She had an idea.
    Dalia walked downstairs to the spa. The same receptionist was there who had been there the day she’d met Julie.
    “Good evening,” said Dalia as she approached the desk. “I was in here the other day.”
    “Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?”
    “Do you remember how I was chatting with the woman in the pedicure chair who was seated next to me?”
    “Yes, it appeared as if you were making a new friend,” said the receptionist.
    “Well, she had told me about a house for sale in her neighborhood and I forgot to take down the information. My husband and I are considering moving here. Could I possibly get some contact information so I can talk to her further?”
    “I’d love to be able to help, but I’d lose my job if I shared that information.”
    “I understand.” Dalia exited the spa but stayed just outside the door. She weighed her options while staying out of the receptionist’s sight. After a while, she came up with a plan. The riding trail passed right in front of the spa’s glass wall. She remembered the domestic violence scene that she and Julie had witnessed from the pedicure chairs. She went outside and looked around. Just as she had hoped, a horse was loosely tied to one of the hitching posts outside of the café. She carefully untied the horse and gave it a swat on the rear end with her purse. He ran off loudly, passing the spa window. To add fuel to the fire, Dalia let out a blood curdling scream. A group of people came running out of the café.
    Right on cue, the receptionist came running outside to see what all the commotion was about. She ran off, trying to chase down the horse. While the receptionist was outside, Dalia slipped into the spa, went behind the reception desk, and pulled up the appointment calendar on the computer. Voila. There was Julie’s contact information.
    Dalia