by Diane Bator
She blew out a breath. “So do you. Besides, Thayer wants us all here, remember?”
“In town, not in the school.” When the front door opened, Mick didn’t bother to look over his shoulder. “Thayer’s a jerk. Go enjoy your weekend. I’ll deal with that two-faced—”
“I’m a two-faced what?” Thayer strolled into the school. “I thought the school was closed for the long weekend.”
“We are closed.” Mick folded his arms across the well-defined muscles of his chest. “She was just leaving.”
“Relax, muscle head.” Thayer’s gaze flicked from Gilda to Mick then back. “I thought I’d see if either of you remembered anything else.”
Gilda frowned. He could have asked her before she left the station. “Yeah, I remembered I was going for a run.”
“Since when do you run?” Thayer asked.
Her face warmed as she stood. “Since I dumped you.”
Mick’s jaw twitched. “Since she started learning karate and wanted to get in shape. You have a problem with that?”
Thayer held up both hands. “Nope.”
“You want some company?” Mick glanced to Gilda. “I’ve had enough paperwork. I need to get out of here too.”
Thayer laughed. “What are you? Her bodyguard?”
“Only when you’re around,” Mick said. “In case you missed the memo, I don’t like you much. You have a habit of not treating my friends very well.”
“She’s your employee, not your friend, and she’s perfectly capable of protecting herself. I’ve got the stitches to prove it.” He backed away. “I’ll leave, but as long as Walter Levy’s killer is still out there, I’ll be in your face.” He hesitated. “And Gilda’s.”
Neither spoke until Thayer left the building and climbed into his cruiser.
Mick leaned against the desk and blew out a long breath. “I really don’t like that guy.”
“Get in line.” She growled.
“I once dated a girl who worked at Café Beanz and had a fling with him,” he said. “You want to know the funny part? His girlfriend caught them in the act and beat the snot out of him.”
“You know full well I was his girlfriend and it wasn’t funny.”
Mick grinned. “I know, but I still can’t believe you gave him a black eye, threw him into a gigantic bag of coffee beans and left him with a nasty concussion. By the time I found out, it was all over the newspapers, they’d already broken up and the girl left town. Last I heard she had two kids and a seventy-year-old sugar daddy.”
“A sugar daddy, huh? Maybe she’s onto something.” Gilda had a job babysitting black belts, a mortgage on a house the size of a throw cushion and no one to go home to. She turned off the computer and headed for the door. “I’m going for my run. See you later.”
“Hey, wait up.” Mick ran to his office and emerged pulling a muscle shirt down over his well-muscled torso. “I was serious about tagging along.”
At least she’d feel safer under the circumstances unless he was Walter’s killer. Safety in numbers. Gilda swallowed hard. “I guess that’s okay. Where do you want to go?”
“Surprise me.” He locked the door behind them. “I need a change of scenery.”
She took him on her usual route, along Main Street to the park then down the trail by the river. They ran side-by-side, keeping their thoughts and words to themselves. A year and a half ago, she decided to run around the high school track. She got halfway around on her first attempt. The next day she pushed to three quarters. After three more tries, she ran one complete lap then collapsed into the grass. Now she was up to running five miles every two days through the streets of her hometown.
Ten thousand people called Sandstone Cove home during the summer. Nestled along the southern shore of Lake Erie, the town boasted sandy beaches and lazy, sunny days. By far, the town’s biggest selling feature, until Walter’s murder, was that no real crimes had been committed there since someone shot a local cop. Her dad.
Apparently word hadn’t gotten out yet a man was murdered. Most tourists wouldn’t really care. It was really none of their concern so they continued to splash in the lake, Jet Ski and steer their boats through the cove. For them, it was nothing that affected their lives.
Gilda’s regular run took forty-five minutes. Today, moving at Mick’s pace, she cut her time by five minutes. Two blocks away from her house, she slowed to a walk. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades and down the curves of her back as she gasped for breath. “That was awesome.”
“Yeah, I needed that, even after all the training earlier. Sometimes it’s better to stop thinking and just run hard. We’ll have to go out together again sometime.” Mick grinned as he wiped his forehead. “For a run, I mean. You mind if I grab some water?”
“Sure.” She led him inside and grabbed a towel. “Have you talked to Walter’s wife?”
He slumped onto a chair at the table. “No, but I should call her, considering he was an instructor.”
“Are you serious?” Gilda set two tall glasses on the short counter that divided her kitchen from her tiny dining area and poured cold water from a pitcher she kept in the fridge. “I think you owe her a lot more than a lousy phone call.”
His mouth dropped open. “Like what?”
“Flowers would be a nice start. Maybe a sympathy card from the school.”
“Why? I didn’t kill him.” He drank the entire glass of water at once.
She contemplated throwing the water in his face. “I didn’t say you did, but acknowledging Walter’s death is the descent thing to do.”
“You’re right.” Mick got up and leaned on the opposite side of the counter’s breakfast bar. His breath cooled the sweat on her bare arm. “I’m not good at that kind of stuff. Can you send her flowers later?”
She sighed. “Sure. Right after I shower and have lunch.”
His gaze strayed below her face, another grin flickering. “I’ll deal with Yoshida. I’m not sure how many people will show up to train Tuesday, but we’ll have to do a moment of silence or something before class.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said. “I could add that to the e-mail to the students.”
“Make sure you post one of those little cards from the funeral on the bulletin board for a while.” Mick drained his glass then reached for the pitcher and refilled both their glasses. “I know it seems like I don’t really care, but he and I were friends for a long time and things are a little weird. It’s going to be strange with him gone.”
“I agree. It’ll be hard to replace him, especially when all the kids loved him to pieces. They’ll have a really hard time dealing with the loss.”
Mick smiled. “Maybe I should take on the kids’ classes for a while. Erik and Xavier can help with the adult classes.”
“What about Razi?” she asked.
“You know him. He’d rather assist then teach. He hates the spotlight.” He drank half his glass of water. “Honestly, Razi’s never struck me as the jealous kind. You know the kind of person that would kill to get whatever they wanted.”
“Huh. Now who’s playing private detective?” Gilda smirked.
“Busted.” Mick winked. “Tell me, Sherlock, would you eliminate Razi as a suspect?”
She shrugged. “Not totally. He had as much opportunity as anyone, including you.”
“What about you?”
“I have an alibi,” she said. “I was at brunch with Marion. Both Thayer and Fabio saw us there then I went at the doctor. I know Razi and Walter got along on a professional level. Did they have much to do with each other outside the school?”
“Razi’s not a real social guy. He’ll come out to watch MMA fights, but never hangs out for long. He’s a man of mystery.” He set his glass on the counter and laid his hand on hers, which sent her heart racing. “Thanks for the drink. I’d better go.”
As she glanced out the front window, a dark car drove past. “Oh, I forgot to mention someone was looking for you earlier.”
“Oh yeah? Who?” He finished the last of his water.
Gilda let him swallow before she answered. “Gary Del Garda.”
Mick yanked his hand away like she’d burned him. “What did he say?”
“Just that he wanted to discuss some business.” She narrowed her eyes. “What would someone like him want with you?”
“Probably just a misunderstanding. Don’t worry about it.”
She opened her mouth, but sensed she wouldn’t get any more answers regarding Gary. “Was your family upset you couldn’t go visit this weekend?”
“Actually, my parents wanted to come here and help.” He averted his gaze. “I told them I have enough to do without entertaining and they’d only be in the way of the investigation.”
Gilda told her mother more or less the same thing. What she’d omitted to say was she and all the remaining black belts were all suspects. That would come out once everyone in Sandstone Cove discovered how Walter Levy actually died.
Every time she shut her eyes, she pictured his body. The katana. The blood pool on the tatami mats. The ring. She should have shown it to Mick. He’d know who it belonged to. Someone would probably have bragged about a memento like that.
“You don’t look so good.” Mick walked around the breakfast bar. He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her into a hug. “You should go take a shower and get some rest.”
Before she could ask about the ring or who he suspected, Mick walked out the door and loped down the front steps. Rather than turn left toward his condo, he ran toward the karate school like rabid cats were after him.
Was there something else going on that Gilda had missed?
Chapter 5
Freshly showered and fed, Gilda was too restless to stay inside and too nervous to go to the school alone. She put on her headphones and strolled along the shoreline littered with garish towels and tourists. Places like Café Beanz were far more crowded than normal and she gave up on even getting close to the ice cream shop until late August, which was probably for the best.
If it wasn’t for the tourists, Sandstone Cove would be just another little lakeside town full of deadwood. Instead, God blessed the area with miles of sandy beach, rugged jetties, lush forests, and driftwood the local artisans turned into expensive souvenirs. Water sports, hiking and camping were mainstays that drew people in year round.
Yoshida Martial Arts sat along Main Street tucked between Nine Lives Consignment Boutique and the Novel Ideas Bookstore. More kitsch, which was a big part of why Gilda hadn’t left even after her dad died and her mom moved to Erie.
She sat on a large tree that had washed ashore in a storm years earlier and sighed. Her initials and Thayer’s were engraved in the trunk for all time or at least until someone cut it up for firewood. She’d been in love with him once. On a shallow, fleeting level, she probably even still cared about him.
Her thoughts ambled from Thayer to Mick and stalled. On some level, she probably loved Mick Williams as well. Most days he acted like an annoying older brother. Some days, ones like today, the attachment seemed deeper and more intense. Those occasional moments of innocent intimacy, like him touching her hand in her kitchen, suggested he felt the same way. Then he’d run out and hook up with a new girlfriend.
Mick kept a wealth of information in his office. He always said they were personal papers, nothing for Gilda’s eyes. Now she wondered. She always thought she knew everything about the school, including about the black belts and about Mick. What had he kept from her?
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it. Mick would be upset she 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 blinked back an onslaught of tears and pulled in a deep breath. Her phone rang again, the 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?
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 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 used to work in Happy Harvey’s Hangover Hut.
Restless, Gilda walked up Main Street, past Yoshida’s, Café Beanz, and the Victorian-style brick front of the 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 off-shoot 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 near the squat white lighthouse and daydream. The dreams varied 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 yet again 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 until he convinced her he was worthy through some Herculean feat and she’d fall into both his arms and his bed.
Maybe her mother was right. She needed a boyfriend, not steamy novels. Luckily she’d only 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.
“Those are a lot 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. His presence comforted her.
She frowned. “I can’t believe Walter just died 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 second-hand 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 badly hurt in that accident?”
“He’s got a few broken ribs and his collarbone broke in three places,” Doc said. “He’ll be off for a while.”
As bile crept up Gilda’s throat, she swallowed hard. “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 did she have to do that? Mick and I both identified him at the school.”
Doc shrugged. “I guess she wanted to see for herself, which is understandable. S
he is his next of kin.”
“To make sure it was him or to make sure he was dead?”
He raised a thick, white eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. That was rude.” Gilda’s face warmed.
“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 change room, but...”
Doc met her gaze. “Do you think there’s more to the story?”
“Yes.” She winced. “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. You saw the sword in his chest. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you more than 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 could have been poisoned first so someone smaller 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 semi-conscious, anyone could have killed him.”
Doc took one last drag on his pipe before he 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 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. “I honestly, 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.”
