Can't Keep a Brunette Down

by Diane Bator

  "Supposed to be." How had she forgotten about her vanilla bean latte? It was probably cold by now anyway.

  "Oh, honey, everyone loves you and Mick." The barista handed her a bag containing the two muffins. "There's no reason they won't go back."

  Two dead bodies and a serial killer might do it. Gilda took the coffees and added milk and sugars. The smell of coffee made her gag. Maybe she should drop off Mick's food and run home, where nothing would make her nauseous or sick. She rubbed the lump on the back of her head and prayed she didn't have a concussion.

  The police station stood right across the street from the coffee shop. If she stopped, their coffees would get cold. A plausible excuse. So was the nausea and the sudden yearning to go to sleep on a beach in Tahiti far, far away from the school, Thayer, and Mick. Maybe she could go see Doc and get a note excusing her from work for the rest of her life. Was that too drastic?

  Thayer opened the front door of the school for her and grabbed the coffee she'd fixed for Mick. "Ah, payback can be sweet."

  She entered the lobby and was about to stop him but reconsidered. Thayer drank his coffee black. Mick's had enough sugar and milk to make her body vibrate for an hour and a half. If nothing else, Thayer's attempt at retribution would be good for a laugh.

  He stood in front of the desk to make sure Mick was watching before he took a huge mouthful of sweet coffee. A second later, he spit it all over the desk, the floor, and Mick. "What did you put in there?"

  Mick howled. "Double milk, triple sugar. Good job, Gilda. That was even better than my idea." He took the cup and pried off the lid. "You're not the sharpest dart in the board, are you, Thayer?"

  Thayer huffed and disappeared down the hallway. "You people are sick."

  "Muffin?" Gilda handed Mick the bag. "Chocolate chip banana. Your favorite."

  "Ah, you know me well. You're the best, Sherlock," he said. "Are you okay? You look kind of pale."

  "I'll be fine. I think it was the whack on the back of the head." Or finding Erik's body a week after finding Walter's. Or the lack of sleep. She glanced into the dojo. "What do you think the odds are of getting Thayer to personally clean up his mess?"

  Mick snorted. "About the same as getting me to clean up mine."

  "Slim to none, then." Gilda sat and drafted an e-mail to inform the students while they waited for Thayer to return with more questions. The more she typed, the worse she felt. "No classes until Monday. I'm really starting to hate Fridays, you know." She frowned and wiped away a tear. "By the way, I won't be here next Friday. Or any Friday after that."

  He patted her hand, leaving behind a dab of chocolate. "I agree. I think we should stay closed Fridays from now on."

  "I'll finish sending e-mails then go home." More tears overwhelmed her before she had a chance to stop them. She buried her face in her hands.

  "Sherlock?" Mick's chair squawked. "Hey, honey, you okay?"

  "No." She gasped for air, but the walls seemed to close in.

  He pulled her close. "Come on, babe. Hold it together. Don't fall apart in front of Thayer, or he'll eat you alive."

  "I'm sorry. I—"

  "Don't worry about it. You probably need a good cry. Believe me, I get it, but Thayer will see it as a sign of weakness," he said. "He'll think you have something to hide. Why don't you go wash up? I'll keep him busy."

  Gilda wiped her face with the back of one hand and zigzagged around the investigators to go splash her face with cold water. Mick was right. Thayer would pounce on her weaknesses in front of everyone, and there was no way to hide her red, puffy eyes.

  As she returned, Mick sat at the keyboard typing a single letter at a time. He concentrated so hard she was surprised his tongue wasn't sticking out of one corner.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to help, but I think it'll take me until Christmas to get this done. I don't exactly have your typing skills." He moved out of her chair.

  "That's not good, considering it's July." She sat at the keyboard and was almost done when Mick cleared his throat.

  "Uh-oh. Here comes the pretty boy," he said. "Brace yourself."

  She finished the e-mail and hit send. "I'm leaving. I don't want to see or hear any more."

  "Tell him to take a flying leap—then leave." Mick grinned. "Better yet, let me tell him."

  "I'll tell him." She reached for her purse and stood. Her vision dimmed, and the room spun. "Thayer, I'm leaving."

  "Wait a minute. I need—"

  "Gilda, are you okay?" A loud voice broke into the conversation like a sledgehammer as Marion flew into the lobby. "You don't look so good."

  "Somebody did clobber me." She rubbed the tender lump the assailant had left behind.

  Marion ran a hand over Gilda's scalp. "Wow, that thing's bigger than Thayer's brain. Did one of these clowns at least call an ambulance to get you checked out? I think you need a bodyguard before one of these morons gets you killed."

  Mick's mouth opened then he bowed his head. "You're right. I should've checked."

  "You're hired, Marion," Gilda said. "Actually, I'm fine. I'm going home to take a nap."

  "Oh no you're not." Marion came around the desk. "You're pale and in shock, and I'm taking you to the hospital."

  Thayer emerged from the dojo. "Who's going to the hospital?"

  "Gilda," Marion said. "She has a concussion and needs medical attention."

  "A concussion?" Thayer's jaw dropped. "Honestly, she seemed fine, considering everything. I'll take her to the hospital."

  Mick snorted. "You're conducting an investigation and can't leave. I'll take her."

  "And you have to stay to lock up the school when we're done," Thayer said.

  "Oh, pack the testosterone away." Marion waved them both off. "You two are pathetic. Step aside, boys. This girl needs a doctor, and you have to give her peace and quiet."

  "I'll send an officer to escort you." Thayer moved aside.

  When Mick blocked their exit, Marion glowered. "Step aside, Sensei. I'm done with work for the day, so I'll take care of Gilda. You keep Thayer out of trouble."

  "I will. Thanks, Marion," Mick said. "Take good care of her for me."

  At the hospital, Gilda was surrounded by more doctors and nurses than necessary. Apparently she was a local celebrity after finding not one, but two bodies in the span of a week. The lump on her head got full attention, as did the fading bruises on her face, and everyone told her she needed a better hobby. She was in and out of the emergency room in record time.

  Marion was leading Gilda to the exit when an altercation broke out in the waiting area. When Thayer yelled, she groaned. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

  "I'm here to take Gilda home." Mick didn't sound much calmer than Thayer. "She's my employee, and this happened on the job. I need to make sure she's okay."

  "If you were any kind of boss, you would've called an ambulance for her earlier," Thayer said. "Get out of my way before I call for backup."

  "You saw her before I did. Why didn't you call for help?" Mick asked.

  "I had a body to deal with. You sent her out for coffee."

  Marion growled. "They're both stupid. Don't worry, Gilda. I'll deal with them." She stormed down the hallway and bellowed, "Both of you go away and leave this poor girl alone."

  The nurse shoved Gilda into a room as the voices outside grew louder. "You're better off staying here for a minute. I'll get rid of them so Marion can take you home."

  Gilda sat and closed her eyes, her hands trembling in her lap. What on Earth was wrong with the world? Two of her friends were dead, and Mick and Thayer were arguing over her. She liked life a lot better when she could walk through her day without anyone noticing what she did.

  Marion blew into the room and ranted about what she'd love to do to Mick and Thayer if she ever met them in a dark alley. "Sorry about that, hon. No more men. No more bodies. Nothing but peace and quiet for the rest of today. We can watch sappy movies, eat buttery popcorn, and put our feet
up."

  Gilda sighed, head still throbbing. "Sounds perfect."

  Rather than take her out some obscure exit, Marion marched her straight out the front door. "Those two aren't smart, but they are devious."

  As they drove out of the hospital parking lot, Gilda spotted Mick and Thayer hovering near a rear exit of the emergency room. "How did you know they'd be there?"

  "My sister's the head nurse," Marion said.

  Gilda burst into laughter. "You know they'll eventually figure out we left and come bang on my door."

  "Yep. By then you'll be on your couch with a big mug of tea and warm chocolate chip cookies." She pulled into Gilda's short driveway. "What did you ever see in Thayer anyway? I get if you've got the hots for Mick—who doesn't—but Thayer gives me the creeps."

  "He was different in high school. Sweet and athletic." She unbuckled and led the way inside the house. "After he went to the police academy, he came back a total jerk."

  "That's rough." Marion forced her to sit on the couch with a fluffy blanket over her lap then went to make tea. "So what's going on with Mick lately? Are he and Chloe getting serious, or are the rumors true and they split up?"

  Mick was like Peter Pan, never wanting to grow up, not always taking responsibility, and hardly noticing anything about anyone else. Somewhere deep inside there was a serious side most people rarely saw, yet lately she'd seen glimpses.

  "I don't think they'll last," Gilda said. "They argue every time they're in the same room. He even told her not to come to the school to train anymore."

  She eased off the couch to check all the doors and windows. Satisfied no one else could get inside without attracting attention, she returned to the couch and snuggled up with the blanket.

  "At least you just got a mild concussion. I heard Erik ended up with throwing stars in his back." Marion handed her a steaming mug and sat in the rocking chair. She turned on the television and flipped channels until she found Casablanca. "Who knocked you out?"

  "I don't know. I didn't actually see anything." She breathed in the soothing scent of chamomile. On the small screen Humphrey Bogart drank and played a game of chess in Rick's Café Américain. "Whoever was there was as quiet as a cat. Ninja-like."

  "A black belt maybe?" Marion sighed. "Poor Erik. Nobody deserves that, not even him."

  "What do you mean?" Gilda nestled down into the cushions.

  "That boy's been in trouble his whole life. I thought Yoshida and Mick had finally straightened him out. Last I heard, he was going behind Mick's back to open his own school."

  That fit with what Gilda had heard as well, but she didn't realize the whole town already knew. "Do you know where he was planning to open his new school?"

  Marion rocked and sipped her tea. "One of my friends from the bank told me he'd rented a run-down warehouse in Erie."

  "Why Erie?" Gilda yawned. Too much excitement for today. All she wanted was to be left alone, but Marion wouldn't leave her side without good reason.

  "His daddy and stepmama moved there three years ago. I guess he figured he'd live in their basement until business picked up, but his stepmama nixed that idea, and he had to get his own place."

  First Walter, now Erik. Gilda set her cup aside. Someone seemed to seriously hate the black belts of Yoshida Martial Arts. It was only a matter of time before the next one fell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After Marion left for home, Gilda paced the living room and rechecked every door and window. Her head hurt, but she was tired of feeling caged. She grabbed her purse and headed for Happy Harvey's Hangover Hut in search of a friend and a bottle.

  Happy threw his arms open wide when he saw her. "Gilda! You hardly ever come in since you broke up with that cop, yet suddenly you come in twice in one week. I am truly blessed. You look pale and tired, amiga."

  When he pulled her close, the scents of stale beer and Doritos surrounded her. She relaxed and took comfort from her old friend. Thayer was currently the least of her concerns. "I've missed you too. I thought I'd pick up a bottle of wine for dinner."

  Happy raised his eyebrows. "Big trouble in Little Japan? Sensei Mick is getting out of hand? You would be wise to get a job somewhere else. Here, maybe."

  Gilda swallowed hard, relieved the store was empty. "It has been trying, but it's nothing to do with Sensei Mick." Well, not entirely to do with Mick, anyway.

  "Oh, Walter," he said. "I'm so sorry, amiga. His death was truly awful. Did all your students come back after the funeral?"

  "They started to." Her chin quivered.

  Happy grabbed her wrist. "My dear girl, you look horrible. Sit. What happened?"

  "Erik." She burst into tears.

  He dragged her behind the counter and forced her onto a stool. "I have never liked that one. What did that two-faced parasita do now?"

  "Someone killed him." She sobbed and reached for a tissue.

  "Santa Maria mãe de Deus!" Happy pulled her off the stool, sat down, and wiped his brow. "Are you kidding? That poor boy. Was he killed at the school, like Walter?"

  "When I went into work today, someone hit me on the back of the head and knocked me out cold. When I came to, Erik was already dead." She blinked away tears. "I swear the place is cursed."

  Happy crossed himself then scurried around the counter and returned with a cardboard carton that held four small bottles of wine. "Any more than this, you get out of control and do stupid things, amiga. You take this, have a hot bubble bath, and next week, you come to me for work. I treat you right. No murders or crazy stuff. Better money, for sure."

  "Thanks, Happy. I promise I'll think about it." Gilda reached for her wallet.

  "You take," he said, sticking the case in a paper bag. "A presente. Get a new life before that place ruins you."

  She wandered down to the beach to the large driftwood tree, sat down, and cracked open a minibar-sized bottle. "Walter, I hope wherever you are, things are much better for you."

  "Honor," she said, then drained the bottle in one long gulp. Why couldn't she shake the thought of the kanji and the missing scroll? If the killer followed the pattern of the Four Possessions, Erik's death would be over Integrity.

  No time for silly, sappy thoughts. She cracked the second bottle of pinot grigio open. "Erik, I never really liked you, and I have a feeling you're in a much warmer place than Sandstone Cove. I hope you're happier there."

  She guzzled the second bottle and sat back, nearly falling right off the log as the alcohol numbed her. "Honor. Integrity. HI. Hi." As the numbing wine kicked in, she giggled then glanced in the bag. Two bottles. Two kanji. Three black belts. Only one receptionist with a shady boss, a stalker, and a bad habit of finding bodies.

  Gilda slid onto the sand and sat against the log to think. She'd already found two bodies, and the killer could have easily included her in his spree this time. He could have strangled her or worse while she was unconscious on the floor, but didn't. Was it really all about the black belts and the kanji, or had Gilda missed the motive altogether?

  She pulled up onto the log and wandered home along the trail that followed Lake Erie's coast. Once home, she put on the stereo, cranked up the volume, and tucked the remaining two wine bottles in the fridge. A distraction from the death and destruction of Yoshida Martial Arts was in order. After locking the front door, she checked the windows, then sauntered into the bathroom.

  Once immersed in warm water and bubbles, she forgot her off-key singing, and luxuriated. The very word luxuriated made her feel both extravagant and worlds away from Sandstone Cove. As she sank beneath the bubbles, her imagination transported her to somewhere tropical with a cabana and a scantily clad pool boy. For the first time in a week, she breathed deeply and sighed her cares away.

  When the doorbell rang somewhere in the distance, she sighed. "Go away. I give up."

  The doorbell rang again.

  What seemed like seconds later, a loud bang rattled the house and shook the bathroom door. Gilda floundered in the water as he
avy footsteps stomped across the hardwood.

  "Gilda, where are you?" Mick bellowed.

  Her heart knocked at her ribs. How on Earth did he get inside? She'd locked all the doors. save one. The bathroom. Oh, crap. "Stay out!"

  When he burst through the bathroom door, she ducked as much of her naked body as possible beneath the bubbles. His eyes widened, jaw dropped, and shoulders sagged all in one motion.

  She pulled the curtain closed and peered around the pink fabric. "What are you doing here?"

  "Oh, geez. You're okay. When you didn't answer the door, I got scared," Mick said. He turned away slightly but didn't leave the room. "I called a dozen times and rang your doorbell. What were you doing?"

  Gilda raised a handful of bubbles. "Taking a bath. Do you mind leaving?"

  "I can't. Not with you in the tub." He bowed his head. "Especially since I broke down your front door."

  "You what?"

  His gazed returned to the tub. To her. "I got worried when you didn't answer the door. I knocked then figured you were dead and kicked the door down."

  "You mean you kicked it in."

  Mick winced. "Nope, I pretty much kicked it down. It's lying on the carpet out front."

  Dread filled her stomach. "Have you been drinking?"

  "A little. I'm sure we all have lately."

  Guilty. Gilda frowned and hid behind the curtain. "Look, I really need some time alone. Why don't you go home, and we'll talk later."

  "I can't." He sat on the toilet lid and dropped his forehead into his hands. "I don't have a home anymore."

  "Sure you do. You have a condo on Balsam Avenue."

  "Sort of," Mick said. "Chloe move in, changed the locks, and conveniently never gave me a key. I've been sleeping at the school for the past few days now."

  "She did? You are?"

  He certainly looked dejected. "Yeah. I guess I should've known better."

  Gilda reached for the towel on the floor and missed by a couple inches. With a quick glance at Mick, she tried again. This time she leaned over the edge of the tub onto the shower curtain and pulled it down, rod and all. The fabric draped over her, covering her curves, while the rod clunked her on the back of the head—on top of her lump from the killer. Her vision sparkled with tiny stars.