Hardheaded Brunette

Home > Other > Hardheaded Brunette > Page 8
Hardheaded Brunette Page 8

by Diane Bator


  "I'm a blue belt in karate." She folded her arms. "I'll be fine."

  Both men looked skeptical.

  "Look for prints and stuff anyway. I'll keep her busy while you look around." Fabio took Gilda outside to the porch swing while Thayer pulled out his phone. "You still have my number, right?"

  "Yes." She pulled his name and number up as proof. "You and a dozen MMA fighters and black belts." As if that had ever stopped anyone before.

  He sighed. "Good. If anything happens out of the ordinary, and I do mean anything, please call me. Day or night. Until we know who and what we're dealing with, I need you to be hyper vigilant."

  "I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding and they've figured out there's nothing here." She feigned bravery but was shaking inside.

  Fabio's jaw tightened. "And if they haven't?"

  Gilda shrugged. "Then I guess they'll come back and I'll make sure to let your forensics guys get fingerprint powder and luminol all over my stuff."

  "I should hope not." He rubbed his face as he got to his feet. "They only use luminol to check for blood."

  Her stomach sank.

  Once they'd gone, Thayer armed with photos and samples for forensics, Gilda went inside. In the commotion, she'd forgotten about giving the necklace to Fabio. She ran to the cupboard to make sure the necklace and the key were in the cutlery drawer where she'd left them. As she took pictures of the mess, she wasn't sure their presence was a good thing.

  With her hands shaking, she cleared a spot for her yoga mat. She needed to calm down and relax after the week's events. Then she'd take the necklace to Fabio. While she tried not to be rattled about Charlie's death, and now having her house ransacked, it was as obvious to her as it seemed to be to Fabio and Thayer there was a connection. Rather than have the police rifle through her things, she preferred to search to see if anything was missing.

  First, she needed to slow her racing heart and catch her breath.

  She changed into a pair of bicycle shorts and a tank top then placed a lavender candle on the coffee table and lit the wick, breathing in the sweet scent before she sat cross-legged on the mat. With her back to the television, facing the couch, she closed her eyes and breathed. In through her nose, out through her mouth until she'd managed to calm her racing heart and relax her shoulders.

  "Om." The anxious chant vibrated through her chest and into her belly.

  Peace filled her stomach and stress left her shoulders. "Om."

  Until someone knocked on her front door.

  She ignored the knocking and breathed again. "Om."

  More peace. Less stress. More knocking.

  "Om." She tried to focus and block out the noise.

  "Hey, you in there, love?" Kane called out.

  Gilda dropped her head forward and let her shoulders collapse around her chest. When she opened the door, she nearly walked straight into him since he'd leaned his forearm on the doorframe and filled the entrance. At least this time he wore more clothing. Tight blue jeans, a wicker cowboy hat, light brown cowboy boots, and a faded T-shirt that looked a size too small and showed every rippling muscle. The overall effect made her jaw drop and her entire body tingle. So much for catching her breath.

  "Are you alone?" he asked.

  Her stomach churned. Rather than let him enter her house, she pushed him back onto the front porch and met him outside in full view of passersby. At least he didn't have a sword in his hands this time.

  "What do you want?" She flared her nostrils. "How did you find out where I live?"

  Kane flashed a pearly white smile that sent a shiver through her. "Everyone in town knows who you are and where you live, love. You're like a local celebrity or something. The guy at Happy Harvey's never stops talking about you."

  "That would be Happy." She stifled a laugh. "He's not thrilled I'm dating Mick and was probably trying to set you up with me."

  He raised his eyebrows and looked her up and down. "I'd say he was a pretty nice guy then. I could do a lot worse."

  Gilda snorted, folding her arms in front of her, with the eerie impression he'd just stripped her in his imagination. "What do you want, Kane?"

  "Keys, love." He leaned against one of the white posts that flanked her porch steps. "Mick said you could hook me up with a key for the new building so I can train when I have nothing better to do."

  "Like kill people?" she asked.

  "Funny." He scowled. "No. Like sit in jail."

  Considering Kane loved to practice using swords and other assorted weapons, Gilda guessed Mick was more concerned about keeping him off the beach. Since the police already had their eyes on Kane for Charlie's murder, he didn't need them to add a long list of weapons offenses to his rap sheet.

  Kane stuck his hands in the front of pockets of his jeans until only his thumbs stuck out. "You think they're right, don't you?"

  "Who?"

  "The police."

  She shifted her weight, moving away from him. Just out of his reach. "What gives you that idea?"

  "Aside from that, you said so. Besides, you look like a scared jackrabbit, love."

  Gilda sighed. "I really don't know you well enough to judge you."

  "Mick does and he'd like you to give me a key to the school." He paused. "It's not like we're getting engaged or anything. Well, not unless you—"

  "No!" Not about to trust Kane, she took her cell phone from her pocket. "Let me double check with Mick to make sure it's okay."

  "Bad enough the cops don't trust me, now all my friends are turning against me too. We are friends, aren't we, love?"

  After a brief moment of guilt, Gilda called Mick. Only after he'd okayed her giving Kane a key did she spin around and open her front door. "I have a spare key in my purse. You can take that one and I'll get more cut later this week. Wait here."

  Gilda went inside and reached for her purse, pulling out her key ring that held two silver keys. One school key belonged to her. She snaked the second key off the ring and turned toward the door.

  "Holy shit. Your maid's gone rogue, love." Kane sauntered through her living room, cowboy boots and all. He leaned over the burning candle and took a whiff. "Nice place you've got here, but you really need a new housekeeper. This one's slacking off."

  Her cheeks burned as she bit back the urge to tell him her house had been ransacked by an intruder. She shuddered. "I don't recall inviting you inside."

  Another wide smile, this one accompanied by a wink. Kane had brilliant turquoise eyes, not green, as she'd first thought, and a grin that made her knees wobble. "It was implied."

  Gilda put her hands on her hips. "I told you to wait outside."

  "Your mouth did," he said. "But your eyes begged me to follow."

  "You're a lunatic." She flared her nostrils. "If you don't get out of here right this second, I'll call Mick, and he'll throw you out."

  Kane chuckled. "I'll leave, don't worry. Thanks for the key, love. I'll see you later."

  As he strolled out of her house and down the front steps, Gilda had half a mind to slam the front door and turn the lock. Try as she might, however, she couldn't take her eyes off his tight blue jeans until her gate closed behind him. When he turned right toward the Phoenix school and downtown Sandstone Cove, he caught her eye and tipped his hat.

  Gilda slammed the door and blew out a breath. The guy hadn't even touched her and yet her entire body vibrated. Forget yoga and meditation, what she needed was either a power walk or a long, cold shower. She blew out the candle and chose the walk. Later, she could take the cold shower and tidy up.

  Unfortunately, Kane was right about one thing—everyone in town knew where she lived. Including him and everyone else on her suspect list. Even though Thayer had dusted for fingerprints, she might never know who'd broken into her house.

  Not unless they struck again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gilda wandered into the Phoenix school around ten Monday morning and groaned. No one had cleaned, moved out the benches, or even ta
ken down the octagon. Their first class started at noon and a lot of work that should have been taken care of right after the grand opening matches still needed to be done. She had hoped they wouldn't leave the whole mess for her to take care of, but everyone must have still been reeling.

  Charlie Hunt's murder had thrown off the school's schedule.

  She set her purse and the laptop behind her desk and grabbed a large garbage bag. Empty water bottles lay strewn on the floor next to discarded coffee cups and an assortment of forgotten clothing and gear. She sorted forgotten gear from trash and had filled one entire bag before the front doors burst open.

  Henry Lott, their helper at the meet and greet at Razi's house, ran into the school dressed in his white shirt and tie ready for his job at The Cove. His blond, sweat-soaked hair was plastered to his forehead. His breath came in deep, jagged wheezes. "Gilda. Where's Mick?"

  "He's not here yet. Are you okay?" When his face paled, Gilda ran to get him a cold water bottle from the staff fridge in back.

  "I…saw…" He doubled over, loosened his tie, and took several deep breaths. "Sanchez."

  She shrugged. "Probably. Thayer and Fabio told him and Gomes not to leave town just yet. I think he has more questions for them about Kane."

  Henry shook his head so violently she was sure he'd snap a muscle in his neck. "Not today. The other night. The MMA guy." He gasped and took a sip of water. "Dead guy. Sanchez is short. He and…" He bent over again and took a couple more deep breaths.

  "Catch your breath first." Gilda frowned. "Then you can tell me what's going on."

  Henry sat on a bench and dropped his head between his knees. After a couple minutes, he sat up again. "I didn't think it…important, but…" His face grew even paler.

  "Are you sure you're okay? I could take you over to see Doc and—"

  "No." He held up a hand. "I'm good. One sec. Asthma. Forgot… Inhaler."

  She sat next to him. "What about Sanchez?"

  Henry drew in a deep breath then blurted, "I saw him and that fighter guy that night."

  "You saw Sanchez and Charlie?"

  Henry shook his head, his brown eyes wide. "No. Crazy sword dude."

  "Kane?" Gilda forgot about the mess. "You saw Kane and Sanchez together? When?"

  "After Razi's party. Out on the beach near the boardwalk," he said. "They were arguing. About money and a bad deal."

  She stared. "Sanchez is Gomes' trainer. What sort of deal would he have had with Kane?"

  Henry shrugged as his breathing settled into a more relaxed rhythm. "Maybe he paid Kane to take a dive in his fight with Gomes."

  "But it was just an exhibition match." Gilda frowned. "Aren't they kind of meaningless in the big picture? The whole event was just to draw people in to Sandstone Cove and see our new school."

  "Huh." Henry sat up straighter. "But Charlie died and the fight never happened. Their deal was broken."

  Her eyes widened. "But at the time you saw Sanchez and Kane, Charlie wasn't dead yet. According to everyone at the party, he left with Mena right after he argued with Kane and Razi. What time did you see them?"

  Henry closed his eyes and screwed up his face. "Dinner rush ended around eleven. I snuck out for a smoke about quarter after. I remember because I checked the clock in the kitchen. It's a few minutes off the time on my watch, and I could only take ten minutes."

  "You have asthma and you smoke?" She winced. "Do you think that helps?"

  "Yeah, I know that's bad, but it's really hard to quit, you know?"

  Gilda didn't know, yet she nodded sympathetically then filled him in on all the disagreements she'd witnessed at Razi's as she tried to recall where she'd been that night at eleven fifteen. She should have stayed to clean up the backyard with Razi then helped Marion home. Instead, Mick had sent her and Marion, who'd snuck a few margaritas, home before things got too rough. If there had been people shouting on the beach that night, she wouldn't have heard them over Marion's ranting about being kicked out.

  "You found the body, right? So what were you doing out on Ponderer's Point that night?" he asked.

  "I wasn't." She refocused her attention on Henry. "I went out to get some fresh air during the fights. You were here. The place reeked."

  "Oh." He wiped a hand across his forehead. "Do you think I should talk to the police or let Kane know what I saw?"

  "You mean you didn't tell the police already?" Gilda raised her eyebrows. Kane, the guy with dull swords and sharp wit? For Henry to tell Kane what he'd seen wouldn't make anything better, especially his health. "No, stay away from Kane. Go talk to Fabio."

  "So you think I should go talk to Fabio on account of you and Thayer still don't see eye-to-eye?"

  "No." She frowned. "On account of Fabio being the senior lead investigator."

  Henry winked. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why. I'll stop and talk to Fabio on my way to work."

  Once he left the school, Gilda returned to picking up trash before deciding she needed to make her way to the computer to find more information about Sanchez and his buddy Gomes. The same information Thayer had ready access to and Mick would likely know off the top of his head. She tied a knot in the top of one trash bag and reached into a drawer behind the counter for a second one when someone cleared their throat behind her.

  Sanchez stood across the front counter, his hair disheveled and anger smeared across his crumpled features. "I'm here for my money."

  Gilda blinked. "What money?"

  "The money I had to shell out for the pleasure of seeing my fighter beat Kane Garrick's face in." He narrowed his dark, beady eyes. "The fight Gomes and I traveled all the way here for that never happened."

  Her heart raced, and she hoped Sanchez didn't do anything stupid, especially since she was the only person in the building. Being alone with a lunatic wasn't on her to-do list that day.

  "I'll have to arrange that with Mick. I don't have the authority to—"

  "That's not what he said when I asked him." Sanchez's gaze seemed to bore twin holes through her head. "He said you were the one in control of the money."

  Gilda's eye twitched. It wasn't like Mick to pass the buck anymore. Not lately, with expenses mounting for the new school. Why was Mick stalling on paying off Gomes and Sanchez? She reached for her cell phone.

  "I wouldn't recommend doing that." Sanchez growled as if he could see right through the raised front of the counter.

  Gilda froze, holding her breath. Did he actually know what she was up to?

  "Just cut me a check and I'll be on my way." He glanced toward the door. "My boy Gomes has another bout coming up and needs to get back to training. Sticking around this hole is costing me time and money."

  The sooner Mick cut Sanchez a check, the sooner Sanchez and Gomes would leave and stop annoying everyone. Was Mick trying to keep them around town for the sake of the police investigation or did he have other reasons?

  She swallowed hard. "I have a suggestion. Since Gomes needs to train and Mick isn't here yet, why don't you guys train here for now? That way I can talk to Mick and get permission to write a check then get him to sign it right away. That's the way it works. I don't have total control over anything."

  While Sanchez stared, Gilda held her breath. He seriously seemed to consider her suggestion for several seconds. "So you're saying you can give us free mat time, but no cash?"

  "Yes." She hoped Mick wouldn't have a fit when he found out. "One hour, anyway."

  Sanchez gave a slow nod. "I suppose that'll have to do for now. Then I can talk business with Mick when he shows his ugly mug."

  "We have a class at noon." Gilda glanced at the clock. "He'll be here soon."

  Sanchez pulled out his cell phone and pushed a button. "Get your sorry butt into the Phoenix school. You're gonna train here for today until I talk to Mick."

  She blew out a silent breath only to suck it back in when Gomes strutted through the front door a minute later with a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He must have been sitting
in a car outside.

  "Hey." Gomes flashed a smile on his way to the changing rooms.

  When Sanchez finally turned away and headed into the dojo, Gilda grabbed her phone to text Mick. Gomes barely had enough time to change clothes and put on his sparring gear before Razi banged open the front door.

  "What is going on?" Razi flared his nostrils. "What are they doing here?"

  Gilda winced. "Waiting for Mick."

  He swore. Repeatedly. "Why did you let them in our school to train?"

  "Because they weren't going to leave until they saw Mick and I have no idea where he is," she said. "This way I don't have them standing around the lobby staring at me for the next hour or two."

  Razi wiped a hand over his face. "I understand. Do not concern yourself with them. Mick sent me to help take care of things." He disappeared into the back then strolled into the dojo a few minutes later, wearing full sparring gear.

  Gilda sat back, now thoroughly confused. If Razi was so anxious to get rid of Sanchez and Gomes, why would he bother to train with them? She guessed it had to do with the old saying "keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

  Kane wandered in a half hour later. "What are those two leeches doing here?"

  "Waiting for Mick, who wants them kept here for now," she said. "He even sent Razi to keep them busy."

  "Really? Weird. He just told me to meet them here." Kane raised his eyebrows then focused on the men in the dojo for several minutes. "Gomes has an injured left arm. He can't throw a decent punch or block properly."

  Gilda stood behind the counter to watch the men train. While she didn't know a lot about MMA fighting, she knew enough to see Kane had a point. Gomes' left arm moved slower than his right. He seemed more concerned with shielding his ribs than his face. "That is odd."

  Kane huffed. "Depending on when he got injured, he never would have won our match the other day. I would've put the loser in the hospital."

 

‹ Prev