"Dogs and yoga are a killer combination in this amateur sleuth series"
Reviewed by Clare O'Beara
Posted January 26, 2016
Mystery Cozy | Mystery
Third in the series about a yoga instructor and her
faithful German Shepherd, called the Downward Dog
Mystery series, this instalment has a lot to live up
to! So far
we've seen crime solving from a yoga studio and on an
island health retreat; now in KARMA'S A KILLER the Seattle
based yoga instructor Kate Davidson gets involved with a
pet shelter and dog yoga. Karma is a way of suggesting that your deeds come back to
you so you get what you deserve. Kate tries to live calmly
and usefully, but even she finds a fun run with dogs
chaotic. The Seattle park teems with people and pets, but
when she tries to sit apart for some quiet time, she
overhears two women having a dispute over whether the dog
shelter which is today's charity is really well-
intentioned. From the sound
of it, these ladies are animal
rights activists. Maybe they know something she doesn't.
Plus Kate's
boyfriend Michael runs a pet store, and his girl
assistant has started ogling him and wearing tight tops.
Her dog and handler
yoga class turns chaotic, then a fire starts near
the goats. Could the day get any worse? Kate doesn't know
it yet, but a long-lost family member is in the crowd, and
another attendee is about to meet an untimely death. Comedy and tragedy come hand in hand in Tracy Weber's
enjoyable stories; the death is of a distinct personality
while we can depend on tongue-lolling dog antics to
distract us from tragedy and sometimes from clues. Bella
the Shepherd is protective to a fault and dislikes other
dogs, so between that and needing a special enzyme in her
food, she makes the case that pet owning is about
responsibility. Michael
dislikes Kate's practice of involving herself with murder
suspects, but he decides he's better to help her than fight
about it. The couple are growing as individuals and
together as the series continues. We also see Kate teaching
several yoga classes and keeping herself grounded while she
tracks down the killer. I especially like the tree
climbing episode! KARMA'S A KILLER and this mystery is
great fun. Breathe deeply before you begin.
SUMMARY
When Seattle yoga teacher Kate Davidson agrees to teach
doga
(yoga for dogs) at a fundraiser for a local animal
rescue,
she believes the only damage will be to her reputation.
But
a few downward-facing dogs are the least of Kate’s
problems
when an animal rights protest at the event leads to a
suspicious fire and a drowning. The police arrest a woman claiming to be Kate’s estranged
mother and charge her with murder. To prove her
innocence,
Kate, boyfriend Michael, and German shepherd sidekick
Bella
dive deeply into the worlds of animal activism,
organizational politics, and the dangerous obsessions
that
drive them. All while discovering that when it comes to
murder, there’s no place like hOMe.
ExcerptCHAPTER 5The shouts that drowned out Maggie’s words were
impassioned, if a little misguided. “Break down the cages!” “Close the dog warehouses!” “Animal ownership is slavery!” Over twenty people, all wearing black shirts with orange
flame insignias, cut a swath across the grass, waving
picket signs and yelling at top volume. Two teenage girls held onto opposite ends of a banner
that read “Humans for Ethical Animal Treatment. Turn up
the HEAT!” Raven—the younger woman I’d seen arguing behind the
paddle boats earlier—marched next to them holding a sign
in one hand and a leash attached to the neck of a
handsome, thirtyish, olive-skinned man in the other.
Eduardo, I assumed. I shaded my eyes with my hand and
examined the object of the two women’s confrontation. Even from a distance, I could understand his appeal. With
broad shoulders, deep cocoa eyes, and wavy black hair
that curled under his ear lobes, this man would easily
make more than one woman’s heart go atwitter. His one
glaring fault was the sandpaper-thick layer of dark
stubble covering the lower half of his face. No amount of
shaving would keep that beard-in-the-making under
control. Even thinking about it made my skin itch. His dark leather jacket and matching motorcycle boots
contrasted hypocritically with the sign that he carried:
“Animals Are Sentient Beings, Not Possessions!” His face
wore a trapped, agonized expression, though that might
have been part of the show. I scanned the area behind him, looking for Dharma and
Goth Girl. I didn’t see either. The dog walkers stopped talking, stared at the ruckus,
and scowled. No one seemed to be having fun anymore,
which was probably the protestor’s intention. A short,
rail-thin young woman stomped away from the picket line,
knocked a hot dog out of a child’s hand, and yelled,
“Meat is murder!” Michael pulled out his cell phone. “That’s it. I’m
calling the police.” Maggie closed her eyes and sighed. “I can’t believe she’s
actually going through with this.” “You know one of them?” I asked She shuddered, but her eyes never left the protesters.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Sally, take Mrs.
Abernathy to the pet first aid tent and …” Her voice trailed off. She glanced left and right. “Where
on earth did Sally go?” The Bunny Lady wrinkled her nose, ill humor back in full
force. “Sally left a few minutes ago, which is exactly
what I should have done. You obviously don’t have control
over this fiasco.” She slipped the rabbit into her bag
and stomped several feet away before turning back to spit
out two final sentences. “Don’t bother cashing that check
I gave you earlier. I’m putting a stop payment on it as
soon as I get home!” Maggie cradled her face in her hands. “Can this day get
any worse?” She shouldn’t have asked. The words barely escaped her lips when Dale’s head jerked
up. “Do you smell that?” I did. I would have recognized that smell anywhere.
Gasoline. I heard a loud swoosh, punctuated by a louder explosion.
New, significantly more frightening, words rang out
across the field. “Fire! Somebody help! The garbage cans are on fire!” Dale’s face turned as white as his beard. “Oh no! The goats!” Michael and Maggie ran toward the registration desk,
while Dale, Bandit, and I tore off to the petting area.
Picketers and dog walkers scattered in every direction. By the time we rounded the corner, the fire was already
spreading. Hot yellow flames licked from the recycle bins
to the loose hay surrounding the petting area. Within
seconds, the entire line of straw bales had ignited,
creating a flaming, Hades-like fence. The teenage volunteers had already rushed the children
outside the fenced area, but the goats were still
trapped, huddled together in the corner farthest away
from the fire. Michael skidded to a stop behind me and
blasted the straw bales with an extinguisher, but the
fire was spreading too fast. He may as well have been
spraying the Towering Inferno with a garden hose. Dale tossed Bandit’s leash to a gawker. The blond
volunteer held the gate open while his brother, Dale, and
I scrambled inside. Michael kept spraying the
extinguisher, holding the flames back as best he could. The goats refused to move. “Force them to the entrance,” Dale yelled. I channeled my inner Goth Girl, waved my arms, and
yelled. “Go you stupid goats! Run! Get out of here!” The three of us screamed and clapped and pushed and
stomped, until the terrified animals bolted from the
enclosure and charged into the park, straight past the
onlookers, who were too transfixed by the flames to do
anything but watch. Dale gathered the final fear-frozen spotted kid in his
arms and carried it away from the flames. Sirens wailed
in the distance. “Get the truck,” he said to the blond teen. He handed the
baby goat to the other. It seemed like a century passed, but it couldn’t have
been more than a few minutes before firemen started
dousing the area with cold water. Dale kept a watchful
eye on his skittish herd, huddled several hundred feet
away. A few people broke off from the crowd and tried to
approach them. “Stay back!” Dale yelled. “Just block them
from the road. And for lands sake, don’t chase them.” Michael came up behind us. “Shouldn’t we try to round
them up somehow?” Dale’s expression was grim. “They’re too riled up. Give
them a few minutes to calm down. They’ll come to me.” His
voice didn’t sound confident. The blond teen drove a livestock truck onto the field and
parked. He jumped out of the cab, opened the back, and
pulled down a wide ramp. Dale grabbed a metal pail from
inside and filled it with grain from a five-gallon
bucket. “Hope this works,” he muttered.
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