Can't Keep a Brunette Down (8 page)

"What makes you think something's up? Can't I just come by to visit?" He sat on the steps and sighed. "You have a really nice yard."

"Thanks. What do you want?" she asked. "You've never come over to my house before."

"Nothing. I've been locked in Thayer's interrogation room again for the past two hours. I needed a friendly face and some fresh air. That place reeks worse than the school. I wonder if they've ever heard of air fresheners. We should send over a case."

She sat on the stone bench near the lavender. "Not that I mind the company, but why didn't you go see Chloe?"

"She's at work." He hesitated. "She doesn't like me stopping by when she's busy."

Gilda raised her eyebrows. Chloe was a customer service representative at the bank. "What did Thayer want now?"

"Hair, skin cells, blood. Everything but my firstborn." Mick basked in the sunshine. "He used the old standby about trying to eliminate people, but when he asked for a semen sample, I wondered what was really going on."

"Semen?" Gilda asked, mouth and eyes wide.

"That's pretty much what I did. I guess it has something to do with the torn-down changing room curtains, which I do
not
want back now, by the way."

"Eww!" She scrunched up her face.

Mick laughed. "I think I had that look too."

"Does he want to talk to me?"

"No, just the black belts. Personally, I think he has it out for all of us except you."

"Funny," she said. "I thought I'd be the biggest target on his hit list."

"Nah, he has a soft spot for you. He doesn't think you're capable of anything like this. Face it, Sherlock. You're just too nice."

"I am not." She folded her arms and sat back. With nothing to stop her, she toppled into the huge pink peony behind her.

Mick flew across the grass and caught her before she could land in the dirt. He pulled her upright until their faces were scant inches apart. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks for grabbing me." A surge of heat swept through her. "I mean, for not letting me fall." That didn't sound any better.

"My pleasure." He sat beside her, one hand around her waist. "You got new nail polish. I've never seen your toenails pale green before. They look like mint chocolate chip ice cream. My favorite."

"Thanks."

"Actually, ice cream sounds good." As he moved an inch closer, his grip tightened on her waist. "I might stop for some on my way home."

"It does sound good." So did a cold shower.

He cleared his throat and suddenly became all business again, moving his hands to grip the bench on either side of his legs. "You called everyone to cancel classes tonight, right?"

She focused on a multilayered red poppy. The heat off his hand seemed to sear her thigh. "There are no classes tonight. It's Saturday."

"Is the funeral Tuesday or Wednesday?"

"Yoshida's workshop is Tuesday. The funeral is Wednesday. Back to normal Thursday." Spots swam before her eyes. What on earth was wrong with her? Mick had never made her so rattled before.

"Good." He hesitated. "Are you okay? I mean, after Walter's death and all that."

"I think so," she said. "I went to see Jade earlier."

"You have been busy today." He smiled. "How's she doing?"

"She doesn't seem very shaken up."

Mick shrugged. "I guess we all grieve in our own ways."

"True." She thought about the man in the yellow robe. Jade certainly had an interesting method of mourning the loss of her husband. "You didn't stop by to see her today, did you?"

"Nope. After our run, I had breakfast with—" He clamped his mouth shut. "I should go. I'm sure you have a lot to do."

"Yeah, I'm sure I do." Left out of the loop again. What was going on? "I've heard rumors about a couple of the instructors wanting to open their own schools and—"

He flinched then draped his arm across her shoulders and rested his head against hers. "I hate rumors. They usually get people into trouble that was never there to begin with. If you need anything, just call me. Don't worry about the school until after the funeral."

"What about Yoshida's workshop?"

Mick rubbed his eyes. "Except for that. Can you…"

"I'll make sure everyone knows about the workshop, the funeral, and when classes will resume," she said. "I'll even make sure everything is clean and ready. You need to replace the mats first though."

"Consider it taken care of." He gave her shoulders a squeeze then kissed her cheek. His lips lingered near her ear long enough that her entire body tingled. "What would I do without your nagging, Sherlock?"

Once he left, she forgot about gardening and splashed her face and armpits with cold water from the hose. When a surge of nervous energy tore through her, she returned to the yard. He never did answer her question about the black belts wanting to open new schools.

Later that afternoon, she wandered to the karate school to check for messages and send e-mails. She could have called to check the phone messages but was too restless and wanted to make sure nothing else had happened.

The lights inside were on, but the door was locked. Mick must have come in again and forgot to turn the lights off when he left. She prayed there were no more bodies. This time she would probably scream, run for home, and never look back.

Razi was inside the dojo scrubbing new tatami mats with his back to her. The water bucket stood on the laminate floor of the lobby. Sweat soaked his short, black hair and army-green shirt. Rumor around the school was he'd been an Israeli soldier trained in Krav Maga and had done things that would have given Gilda nightmares.

She wished she'd told Marion where she was going. If the school reopened in two days, and they found her dead inside, it would take a lot more than cleaners to get the stench out. She set her handbag down and scribbled a note to grab air fresheners and disinfectant spray later.

"Miss Wright. What are you doing here?" Razi asked.

She jumped, shrieked, and dropped her keys to the laminate floor with a clatter, then struggled for a calming breath. "I work here. What are you doing here?"

He leaned the mop against the wall. "Sensei Mick asked me to replace the mats. They all needed to be disinfected. The police took far more mats than I thought they would."

Gilda swallowed hard. "How do you know the police took them?"

"Biohazardous materials." Razi studied her. Then his mouth twisted and one eyebrow cocked. "Was this a test?"

"I guess so. Sorry."

A genuine, honest-to-goodness smile she'd never seen before curved his lips. "You watch far too much television, Miss Wright."

"Probably. Where did you get the mats so fast?"

"They are from my basement. Sensei Mick helped me set up a dojo in my basement so I could do my training. I offered my mats to the school until he can get new ones."

"That was really nice. Thank you." She bowed her head. "Did you know Walter well?"

"Walter was a simple man with a complicated life," he said. "Some things he did made me laugh. Some things made me sad. Some things made me wonder if his head was up his posterior."

"What things?" She'd never heard Razi talk so much.

"I do not gossip, Miss Wright." Hence, the reason he probably rarely spoke.

"So, who should I talk to?"

Razi shrugged his broad shoulders and lifted the bucket. "Anyone who will talk to you. I suggest you start with Sensei Mick and work down the list."

"You do? Why Sensei Mick?"

He walked away, silent except for the slosh of the water in the bucket.

"Razi?" She followed him down the hall to the utility room and waited while he emptied the bucket into the large sink and rinsed the mop. Mick was the head honcho. Everyone knew that, so he had to know more than everyone else. He probably knew all about Walter and the potential karate school.

"Did Walter ever talk to you about starting his own karate school?"

"Once again, that is gossip."

"Not if I ask you to tell me." She crossed her fingers and hoped he believed her. "Relaying information when someone really needs to know isn't gossip. Running around town telling everyone what you know out of spite is gossip."

"That is an interesting interpretation." Razi put the bucket and mop away then cleaned the sink. "And of what use is this information to you?"

Gilda hesitated. "I think his death had something to do with him wanting to leave Yoshida's and open a new school."

"I see." He rinsed away the cleaner from the sink then wiped it dry. If he'd murdered Walter, there wouldn't have been a speck of blood anywhere by the time she and the police got there. Razi was too meticulous. "Do you think it's dangerous for you to look for his killer?"

"Yes. Probably."

He walked toward her then lay a damp hand on her shoulder. "Be careful, Miss Wright. Even the most harmless kitten can be a danger."

She didn't move until the front door had closed and silence settled over the school. Only then did she settle behind her desk. She hoped Gary wasn't watching and didn't know she was alone. He made her nervous.

Xavier and Razi had never spoken to her as much as they had in the past twenty-four hours. It struck her as odd for both of them, especially Razi, who'd rarely spoken to her at all.

Mick seemed to gravitate close to her then pull away. Was he trying to distract her and, if so, from what?

Gilda took care of the small pile of paperwork then ordered flowers for the Levy family. Once her work was done, she snooped. The call that came in the day before while she and Mick talked in the lobby was in caller ID. Mick's home number. The call came from his condo. Her stomach lurched. Had Chloe moved in with him between fights?

Chloe del Garda had signed up for karate a year earlier, and even though Mick noticed her, as far as Gilda knew, he hadn't acted on the attraction publicly until six months ago. Far too soon to cohabitate, in her opinion, but Mick obviously didn't share her view. Of course, while she didn't see eye to eye with him on a lot of things, she respected him enough not to make the small things into larger issues.

What happened that Mick would ban his girlfriend from the school? Sure, they argued a lot, but he'd never banned anyone before. Whatever happened between them this time must be serious. She headed for his office to see what sort of secrets lurked there. Halfway to his door, she paused.

The ring. She hadn't thought to ask anyone but Xavier about it. If the ring wasn't made locally, she'd have a hard time finding information. If it was something ordered online, she might be able to track it down and give Thayer a hand. At least that was her official reasoning. Unofficially, she still had no idea to whom the ring belonged, and Fabio wasn't likely to keep her in the loop.

She turned away from Mick's office and sat at her computer to begin her search. An hour later, all she had was a throbbing headache. No leads. No photos.

Gilda clicked her pen in frustration until something pulled her focus away from the website. She glanced up from the monitor and frowned. A sound. A movement. Probably something small and light, like a rat. She hated rats as much as Mick hated cats.

She stood behind her desk and did a visual search. The dojo was dark, and the lights were still out in the changing room. After blowing out a breath, she chalked it up to a hallucination brought on by stress, and then finished adding the details of Walter's funeral to the karate school website until another sound sent a shiver down her back.

Then someone moved across the mats. Someone who'd either come in while Razi was there or snuck in later while she was alone. Had Razi let someone inside to lie in wait?

Heart racing, Gilda reached for the nearest weapon: a pair of long, sharp scissors. Despite the two years of karate training, she might never be able to hold her own against a black belt intent on killing her. Not that scissors would help much against someone with serious weapons training.

She skirted the desk, careful not to knock anything over, then headed for the dojo door. Whoever was inside must have come through the back and known she was working. She paused and listened. No footsteps. Nothing. "Is somebody here?"

Like anyone would answer and look even more suspicious.

"Mick? Razi?" Either would have answered by now. "Who's there?"

Bare feet squeaked on a mat as the figure in the shadows turned on their toes and ran. Gilda caught a glimpse of bare feet, smooth legs, and muscular calves. A man. She gave chase anyway. Turned on his toes. A black belt would turn that precisely. An outsider would likely turn on his heel or the balls of his feet.

Shadow man ran for the back exit. When he opened the door, a brief explosion of sunlight blinded her. A fuzzy dark shadow was visible before the door slammed shut. By the time she pushed through the door seconds later, the back alley was silent and still. No barefoot ninjas. No vehicles burning rubber down the alley. Nothing.

Gilda cursed over and over as a mantra until she'd locked the back door and retreated behind her desk. Who broke in and what were they looking for? Walter's murderer after his missing ring?

"Gilda? Is that you?" Mick called from the front door.

"Yes." She tightened her grip on the scissors. If he walked in with bare feet, there was no telling what she might do.

"What's going on?" Mick strolled in sweaty and naked from the waist up.

"I didn't think you'd be here," she said.

He paused in front of her desk. "Whoa. Are you okay, Sherlock?"

Hands shaking, she set the scissors on the desk and collapsed into the chair. "Someone was in here while I posted Walter's funeral information on the website. They ran out the back door, but I didn't see who it was."

He paled. "You can post stuff to the website?"

"Mick."

"Sorry, I'm kidding. You looked like you were going to pass out." He smoothed back his hair with both hands. "I'll go take a look around. What are you doing here anyway?"

"I came to order flowers for Jade and sent out an e-mail to the students," she said. "Razi was here. He washed the mats then left."

"Lady Macbeth." Mick grinned. "Except I can't picture you as the sort of woman to drive a katana through a man's chest. Verbally maybe. Not physically."