Can't Keep a Brunette Down (7 page)

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it. Mick would be upset she wasn't at work and wasn't at his beck and call. Let
him
deal with the police and students for a while. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking since she'd discovered Walter's corpse.

Body.

She shuddered then blinked back an onslaught of tears and pulled in a deep breath. Her phone rang again, its vibration tickling her hip. Mick was always persistent. Reluctantly, she checked the screen. A text from her mother, two missed calls from Marion, and one from Thayer. Not a peep from Mick. Her heart sank. Why did that disappoint her so much? He was only her boss.

Her mother wanted her to come home, yet Thayer warned her not to leave town, or else. The "or else" made her laugh out loud. Who did he think he was? Sure, he'd proposed marriage once. They'd even gone so far as to set a date. She had the dress, the caterer, the church, and the hall. He had the girl from Café Beanz, a honey in Erie, and according to Fabio, a hot babe who worked in Happy Harvey's Hangover Hut.

Gilda walked up Main Street, past Yoshida's, Café Beanz, and the Victorian-style brick hospital, toward the pricier part of town. Ponderer's Point was a finger of rocky beach dotted with mansions and summer cottages easily four times the size of Gilda's house. An offshoot of Sandstone Cove, at the far end of the point sprawled a sturdy pier where yachts docked and seagulls squawked, seemingly without stopping to take a breath.

She climbed toward her favorite place to sit and daydream—near the squat, white lighthouse. The dreams were never the same and were more like stories she told herself to pass the time. A handsome lighthouse keeper, she imagined, would one day come to her rescue and sweep her away into his domain. Or a wealthy playboy on a blinding white yacht. Or a sexy karate master…

Gilda sighed and sat on a huge granite boulder. It didn't matter who the leading man was, the story always ended the same. She'd refuse him, and then he'd convince her he was worthy through some Herculean feat, and she'd fall into both his arms and his comfy eiderdown bed.

Maybe her mother was right. She needed a boyfriend, not steamy novels. Lucky thing she'd started to read crime novels after breaking up with Thayer.

Today, however, she wasn't here to daydream. She pulled her knees to her chest, in need of an escape. No leading man or bodice-ripping endings. Just a hollow pain in the pit of her stomach. Grief, she'd heard, pulled people and communities together, yet she felt more alone than ever. The sky, bleached from the heat, seemed to close in on her. Suffocating her. Daring her to take a deep breath, lest it be her last.

"Lots of big sighs for a little girl." Doc, tall and white-haired, picked his way over the rocks toward her. Today he wore tan Bermuda shorts and a straight-back-from-Hawaii shirt with well-worn Birkenstocks. "It sounds like the world is caving in on you."

It was comforting to see someone she trusted. Gilda had first met Doc the day she was born, having been one of his first deliveries. He'd guided her through measles, broken ankles, acne, and heartbreak. When he lost his wife to cancer earlier this year, Gilda was the first to deliver an apple-peach cobbler and shepherd's pie to his door.

"It's been a long day." She frowned. "I can't believe Walter died just yesterday. It seems like a week ago."

"Yes, a murder most foul. It stinks you were the one to find his body." He sat next to her and lit a pipe. The sweet scent of his tobacco was comforting, and for a few blissful minutes, she dismissed all thoughts of secondhand smoke and lung cancer.

"Yeah." She rested her chin between her knees.

"And I was unlucky enough to get him on my autopsy table." He puffed. The burning tobacco reminded her of her grandfather who smoked a pipe right up until he died at ninety-five. "Seems like we both got the bitter end of the stick this time."

"Was the medical examiner hurt badly in his accident?"

"Yeah," Doc said. "He's got a few broken ribs, and his collarbone broke in three places. He'll be off for a while."

Bile crept up Gilda's throat. "Have you seen Walter yet?"

"I did the preliminary this morning and have him prepped. Normally, I'd send him to the state, but Thayer insisted I take a look first," he said. "Not sure what the rush is, but I had to take a break when the widow came in to identify the body."

"Why would she have to do that? Mick and I both identified him at the school."

Doc shrugged. "I wondered the same thing. I guess she had to see for herself."

"To make sure it was him, or to make sure he was dead?"

He raised a thick, white eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry. That was rude." Gilda's face warmed. "Just a dumb thought that got away."

"You've always been a perceptive young lady." He patted her hand. "I can always count on you to notice things others can't."

"What did you think after the preliminary exam? I mean, I saw the katana and the awful state of the changing room, but…"

Doc met her gaze. "Do you think there's more to the story?"

"Yes. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"I think you have boundless potential as a writer." He took a drag from his pipe. "The actual cause of death is blatant, but I can't tell you more than what you already know. Confidentiality issues, that sort of thing."

"I know. Sorry for prying. I just feel awful about everything. Jade seems so sweet. She has to be devastated… Do you think Walter might have been poisoned first so someone could take him down easier?"

"You know I can't talk about that, Gilda. What do you think happened?"

"I think either his attacker was bigger, stronger, and faster, or they drugged him." She scanned the horizon. "If he was drugged and semiconscious, anyone could have killed him."

Doc took one last drag on his pipe then knocked it against the boulder. "My job is to determine how he died. Thayer and Fabio have to worry about the rest." He looked Gilda in the eye. "You need to keep out of the way and let the rest of us do the detecting."

Her lower jaw dropped. "What makes you think I'd—?"

Doc smiled. "History has a habit of repeating."

Indignant, she slid off the rock, lightly scraping the backs of her legs. She would never live the incident down for as long as Doc lived. "Honestly, I really did see Mrs. Watson steal drugs from your office. She even admitted to it."

"Honey, you were ten and delirious," he said. "You'd just woken up from surgery for a ruptured appendix. Mrs. Watson was my nurse who was merely getting you painkillers."

She snorted. "So you say. But I know what I saw and heard."

"Yeah? You also said she sprouted shiny wings that looked like bubbles and flew out the window to her car." He hugged her. "I have to admit, you almost had me convinced, until then. Do us both a favor and make sure you have more evidence this time."

Head bowed, Gilda picked her way over the rocks toward the sidewalk. Across the street sat a dark sedan she swore belonged to Gary. Why was he following her?

 

As Doc sauntered over the rocks, leaving the scent of tobacco in his wake, Gilda made a snap decision to visit Walter's widow, Jade Levy. Anything to keep from being alone and having Gary approach her again. After a stop at the corner store to grab a bouquet of bright Gerbera daisies, she walked across town to Darlington Court, the newest subdivision. She'd order a fancier bouquet from the karate school later.

While she had seen Walter every day and had known him fairly well, Gilda sensed Jade seemed to avoid her as much as possible. If nothing else, Walter had left his wife comfortable in a large, new house, complete with a swimming pool, three-car garage, and luxury cars to fill each slot.

Gilda, in her shorts and snug yoga top, felt sorely underdressed to even stand on the front step. She hesitated, taking three deep breaths before she rang the doorbell. Rather than a normal dingdong, the chimes had an airy, Zen-like tone far less jarring than other doorbells.

Jade, drawn and pale, appeared wearing a pink silk kimono. Her delicate features tensed, and she gave a slight bow. "Miss Wright. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry for your loss." Gilda handed her the bouquet, gaudy next to Jade's elegance. "Walter was a good teacher and friend."

Her lips drew into a small, tight bow, making her look even more like a geisha. "That is very sweet. Walter thought very highly of you. He always said you were the one person he could count on at the school. Please come in."

"He did?" Gilda followed Jade across the bamboo floor into a sunroom decorated with treasures probably brought back from many trips to Japan. While Walter wasn't actually Japanese, he'd fully embraced his wife's culture. The low black lacquer table was already set with tea for two. Was she expecting company, or had someone just left? "You have a lovely home."

Jade followed her gaze to the teacups, and her cheeks turned pink. "I have so many visitors these days I keep the table set. Excuse me. I will prepare fresh water."

She took away the teapot, flowers, and both cups and shuffled down the hallway. Beneath her kimono, she wore
tabi
socks and woven grass sandals, or zoris. Walter had brought Gilda a pair, but she ended up using them for decoration.

Gilda didn't believe Jade's explanation about the teacups. If someone else was here, why hadn't the person remained in the sunroom? She wandered around the room and admired the carvings and paintings amid the lush plants. Walter had a penchant for growing the most delicate plants. His orchids thrived where others died. She hoped Jade had the same green thumb to keep them flourishing.

"Sorry." Jade's clogs tapped the floor. "I have jasmine tea. Walter's personal blend from his garden. He drank some every evening."

"That would be great, thanks. I shouldn't impose. You probably have a million things to do." Gilda sat across from her hostess, who poured two thimble-sized cups of tea from a hand-painted pot.

She wore a stiff smile. "Walter's firstborn son, Donald, has taken charge of the funeral and assures me I have nothing to worry about."

"Oh, that's right." Gilda sipped her tea, sweeter than normal jasmine. The tea flowed more easily than their conversation. "I forgot he has older children. Did he have two or three from his first marriage?"

Jade's face tightened further. Taboo topic. "He had three children. Two boys and a girl."

Gilda winced. "It's nice they came to help. You must get along well with them."

"Wonderfully." The word strained through Jade's white teeth. She drank her tea in one gulp then poured a second cup.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be nosy." Gilda finished her thimbleful of tea and set her cup down. "I only came to see if there was anything I could do."

Jade regained her composure and struggled with a small smile. "I hear you have been most helpful with the police and Walter's students. I appreciate you taking the time to come by to check on me. You and Sensei Mick have been good to us."

"I should go then. If you need anything—"

She gave a slight bow. "I will call."

Right after donkeys held public office. Gilda grimaced. She'd made a mess of the entire visit. Her stomach churned. Jade was the most passive widow she'd ever met. Either the stoicism of her culture had been deeply ingrained in her, or Gilda was looking into the dark eyes of a murderer. She shuddered to even consider the possibility.

"I really am sorry about Walter."

"Thank you." When Jade stood, her kimono didn't hold so much as a crinkle but fell smooth and perfect, like someone ironed it the instant she stood. They walked toward the teak front door, footsteps echoing on the bamboo flooring. As Gilda reached for the doorknob, a door slammed upstairs, and she jumped away from the front door.

Jade's eyes widened. Then she gave a small laugh. "The wind. It slams the guestroom door. Walter always laughed at me when I would jump."

"Oh. I thought it might have been one of Walter's kids."

Her face darkened to the color of a crimson rose. "They choose to stay in a hotel when they visit so we do not get in each other's way."

Gilda nodded and glanced up the staircase to the open hallway when a closed door opened slowly. Someone moved inside then the door shut, quieter this time. A second person was in the house. A faceless man who wore a yellow robe.

Whatever Jade Levy was up to, she was far from alone.

 

The plants in her backyard garden welcomed home both Gilda and her whirling mind. They seemed to smile when she watered them, making an intense sadness wash over her. If Jade had a lover, he could have become jealous and killed Walter. Or did Walter discover her promiscuity, so Jade paid someone to kill him?

Gilda's stomach lurched. She'd seen movies about people who hired hit men to do away with troublesome spouses. While she didn't know anyone in Sandstone Cove capable of such a thing, she imagined someone could. For the right price.

She shivered. Actually, she did know someone. The same man who had business to discuss with Mick—Gary del Garda.

She struggled to remember what Walter had told her about his family. Jade was from New York City, the daughter of Japanese immigrants who ran the restaurant where she and Walter supposedly met. He'd forgotten to mention she was a high school senior and he a married father of three. If Jade's parents still held a grudge, they could hire a hit man…

Gilda blew off that thought. Walter and Jade had been married fifteen years. If Jade's family wanted him dead, he wouldn't have lasted so long. She focused on watering the plants and let each tiny drop of water mesmerize her and take her worries into the ground.

"Gilda? Are you here?" Mick called from around the house.

Her worries practically climbed back up her legs to cower behind her knees. "In the backyard."

"I rang the doorbell. I guess you didn't hear it." He fumbled with the latch on the gate, swearing once. "Why do you have a Chinese puzzle lock on your gate?"

"Just lift the latch." She turned off the water. "What's up?"