by Diane Bator
What happened for Mick to ban his girlfriend from the school? Sure they argued a lot, but he’d never black-listed anyone before she knew of. Whatever happened between them this time must be serious. She headed for his office to see what sort of secrets he held there. Halfway to his door, she paused.
The ring. She hadn’t asked anyone but Xavier about it. If the ring wasn’t made locally, she’d have a hard time to find information. On the other hand, if it was something ordered online, she might be able to track it down and give the police a hand. 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.
Gilda 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. She 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.
Gilda stood behind her desk and did a visual search. The dojo was dark and the lights were still out in the change room. After blowing out a breath, she chalked it up to a hallucination brought on by stress 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.
Heart racing, Gilda reached for the nearest weapon, a pair of long, sharp scissors. Despite the two years of karate training, she’d 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, as she headed for the dojo door. Whoever was inside must have come through the back and knew 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 their toes. A black belt would turn that precisely. An outsider would likely turn on their heel or the balls of their feet.
The 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? Was 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. He wore a dusty pair of black sandals.
“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 was posting 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.” She snorted.
“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 an e-mail to all 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.”
“Why would you say that?” She set her pen down. Thayer had said he could picture her stabbing a man through the heart.
“Like I said before, you’re too nice.” He disappeared down the hall. “Sit tight and catch your breath. I’ll check things out.”
He walked around to the back room and flipped on every light in the building as he went. When he returned, he left them all blazing. “I guess all you heard was a loose vent cover and Walter’s ghost playing games.”
She scowled. “That’s not funny, Mick. It was no ghost, I saw someone. He turned on his toes then I grabbed the scissors and chased him out the back door.” She stood and peered over her desk to double check. Yup, black sandals. Easy to put on in the car if he’d snuck in, but why would he? He, of all people, had every reason to be in the school.
“Can you stop staring at my feet? You’re scaring me.” He stepped back. “You don’t plan to stab me anyway, do you?”
“No.” She returned to her chair, not sure what to do next.
He stalked across the dojo then peered out the back door before he returned and sat on the extra chair beside her. “What do you think he wanted?”
She hesitated as tears sprang to her eyes. The second chair was Walter’s contribution to the school. When things were quiet, he enjoyed sitting next to her to learn everything he could about her job. To learn enough to run his own school.
“Something I found after the murder.” Her eyes burned with tears.
Mick leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Something you failed to give the police? Sherlock, you astound me.”
“I found a ring after the police left. Someone had taped it to the bottom of the bench you kicked. I picked it up and gave it to Fabio.” She pulled out her phone to show him the photo of the ring. “Is it yours?”
“No, but I have seen one like it before.” Mick enlarged the image. “Send me the picture so I can ask around.”
“Which would be great unless it belongs to the killer who would come after us.”
“True.” Mick forwarded the picture to his phone then handed hers back. “Do you really think someone will ask about the ring if they killed him?”
“But why would someone hide the ring?”
“Are you sure? Maybe the tape was from something else. Maybe the ring fell off someone’s finger and got stuck between the bench and the wall.”
“Maybe.” Gilda studied the photo of the engraved fist. “In the heat we’ve had lately, my fingers have been so swollen I needed to soap my rings off for class so often I just left them in a drawer at home. How would it slip off someone’s finger?”
“Walter had just lost fifty pounds, hadn’t he? He might have worn it on a chain until he could have it resized.” He leaned forward. “Did Thayer say anything about finding a chain? It could’ve broken in the struggle.”
“No,” she said. “But they had no reason to look for one either.”
Mick jumped out of the chair. “The drain.”
Gilda followed, convinced he was losing his mind. More so when he fell to all fours on the floor and leaned his face close to the tiles. “What are you doing?”
He pulled his keys out of his pocket and turned on a flashlight the size of her pinky. “Right there. See that?”
Just beneath the drain grate, something gleamed. She punched his shoulder. “By jove, Watson. You’ve solved the case.”
He snorted. “See if you can find something to help me get it out of there.”
“I’m busy. You figure it out.” Gilda dismissed his treasure hunt and returned to her desk. She suspected Mick was trying to keep her mind off things. The ring hadn’t fallen from a chain, someone had taped it to the bottom of the bench. Mick must have jarred it loose when he had his tantrum.
He stalked past h
er desk with a growl then disappeared into his office. When he came out a minute later, he carried a hammer and chisel.
She covered her eyes and winced. Whatever mess he made he’d expect her to clean up later. Within seconds, he banged the floor. She imagined shards flying off the tile floor and embedding into the wall but refused to go witness the destruction.
After five minutes of hammering, Mick let out a triumphant “aha.” The hammer and chisel clattered to the floor before he ran around the corner and flung a delicate gold chain with a dirt-encrusted pendant on her desk. “Got it.”
“Great.” Gilda recoiled. The chain needed to be soaked in sanitizer or bagged and given to the police. “Whose is it?”
“Am I supposed to do everything around here?”
She would have thumped her head on the desk, but the grungy chain was in her way. “Of course not. You’ve worked hard enough for one day.”
“Don’t forget to clean up in the back hallway. I left a bit of a mess,”
Gilda had nothing handy to throw that wouldn’t damage the wall if she missed.
Two minutes later, the shower started and goose bumps strolled up and down her arms. She knew Mick used the showers, but not often alone with her in the building. Why hadn’t he gone home when he only lived a few blocks away?
Having done enough sleuthing for one day, Gilda turned off the computer. What she needed was to go home, have a light dinner, and to sleep. She started down the hallway to clean up the mess then stopped. Childishly, she stuck her tongue out in his general direction and packed up to go home. Mick was still here. For once, he could clean up his own mess.
Her gaze fell on the chain once more. Using hand sanitizer and a paper towel, she rubbed the dirt away from the swirled letters of the pendant.
“Chloe?” Gilda sat back. Mick had given Chloe the gold necklace for her last birthday. “She must have lost it after class one day.”
She slid it onto a clean tissue and thought about bringing it to Fabio then hesitated and dropped it on Mick’s desk. Chloe could have lost the necklace a while ago. Just because it was in the drain that didn’t automatically make her a murderer. She left it untouched on the tissue then walked out of the school, leaving both the necklace and the mess for Mick.
Chapter 8
Mid-Sunday morning, Thayer sat across from Gilda in Café Beanz and flagged the waitress for a coffee. Puffy dark circles shadowed his eyes. “We have a lot to talk about.”
She set aside her breakfast sandwich, her meager appetite squelched not only by Thayer’s presence but the sight of Gary’s car out front. “If you want to talk to me about Walter, I’ll come down to the station. If this is personal, can it. I’ve heard everything from you I want to hear.”
“How many times do I have to apologize?” he asked. “What else can I say? I’m sorry. I messed up.”
“So you’ve said.” She took the bag out of her tea.
“Then why won’t you take me back?” His voice took on the hint of a whine. “We made a really great team.”
She hugged her cup. “Experience. Like Happy says ‘A tiger never changes his spots.’”
“Doesn’t he know tigers have stripes?” Thayer winced. “Since when have you been taking dating advice from him?”
Gilda shot him a glare. “Around the same time you let the barista grind your beans behind the counter.”
His bronze face deepened to burnt umber. “That was a one-time thing.”
“Yeah. The one time I caught you. Before that, she sweetened your coffee for six months.” She met his sour glare. “I know about the other girls too, Thayer. The blonde from the quilt shop. The redhead from the ice cream shop. The Goth girl from Happy’s. The yoga teacher from Erie.”
“I’m a changed man, Gilda.” When the waitress set his coffee on the table, he leaned over to watch her walk away.
Gilda grimaced. “Yeah, that’s blatantly obvious.”
He held out both hands. “What? I’m a man who appreciates a woman’s natural assets. Is that a crime?”
“Only if you’re dating me at the time. Do whatever you want.” She slid out of the booth, taking her leftover food and coffee. “You’re not my problem and you haven’t been for years.”
“I’m serious, Gilda. You should really reconsider. We made a great team. All those other women meant nothing. You were the only person who made me feel good about myself. That little house we looked at just came on the market again.”
“I have a house.” She stopped. “The only thing you and I made well together were headlines right after I threw you into a fifty pound bag of coffee beans and you split your scalp open on the grinder.”
Chuckles erupted from other patrons. One lady even applauded.
“You really need to get over it.” Thayer frowned. “You’ve always had a bad temper. That girl left me, you know.”
“So did I.” Gilda handed her sandwich to the waitress and asked for it to go. “In case you haven’t noticed, Thayer, I’ve done pretty well since I kicked you to the curb. I wouldn’t take you back even if you begged and bought me a pink Porsche.”
She turned to walk away but only got as far as the next booth.
“What about Mick?” he asked.
Gilda had a perfectly good explanation for “What about Mick?” She’d practiced it in front of her bathroom mirror every night for a year until she’d convinced herself of all the reasons Mick Williams was off limits in her personal life. He never listened to her. He made her do all the work, yet took all the praise. He was only gorgeous on the outside. He was more bull-headed than Gilda.
“What about Mick?” Thayer asked again.
“Mick won’t date you either.”
A man at the counter applauded. “Good for you, honey. You tell him.”
“I don’t need your approval, Fabio,” she said.
Fabio sat hunched over his coffee. “Probably not. From your sudden departure, I take it my partner asked a few questions about Walter you didn’t like.”
She took her wrapped sandwich from the waitress. “He didn’t ask me any questions about Walter. All he wants is for me to drop my defenses and take him back.”
“Huh.” He shoved the last of a Danish into his mouth. “It’s not good to let one’s lust cloud their judgment. Have a seat. I’ll ask the questions he was supposed to.”
“Like I told your lunatic partner, I’ll go to the station to answer any questions you both have,” she said, “but for now, I have other things to do.”
Fabio nodded. “The karate school’s closed until after the funeral and you’re stuck here for the weekend and have no family to tend to. What’s so pressing?”
“My life. Good-bye, Fabio.”
He stirred his coffee. “I see. Good-bye, Gilda. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast. Don’t choke on your guilt.”
She left the café daydreaming about dumping scalding coffee over both their heads.
“You seem to be a social butterfly early today.” Gary’s deep voice startled her.
She’d forgotten about his car parked out front where he sat behind the steering wheel.
“Thayer and Fabio bothering you?” he asked. “Those two aren’t stupid enough to think someone like you could kill Walter, are they?”
“No.” She walked around the front of his car.
“Then Thayer must still be trying to win you back.” He grinned when her mouth dropped open. “Don’t look so surprised, I hear a lot of things in my business.”
Gilda stopped near the driver’s window. “What do you want with me?”
“Actually, I was watching them.” He pointed up the street.
Mick and Chloe stood in front of the school in heated discussion. Chloe scowled and thrust a handful of papers at Mick then shoved past him. Mick remained in front of the school, mouth agape, staring after her yellow Ferrari when she sped away. He flipped through the papers and cursed, kicking the brick wall before he disappeared inside the school.
“Now there’
s a man with things to hide,” Gary said.
“Tell it to the police. They’re inside.” Gilda scuttled to the far side of the street. She would have felt sorry for Mick but figured whatever happened was likely his fault anyway. As much as she wanted to know what was going on, she wasn’t ready for another confrontation so soon after seeing Thayer.
Things around Sandstone Cove were getting stranger by the minute.
Chapter 9
At five that evening, Mick pushed his way into Gilda’s ten by ten foot living room, accompanied by the scent of alcohol, and shut the door behind him. When he locked it and turned to face her, Gilda’s knees quivered. He closed the gap between them, panting like he’d run the entire way from his condo, and paused to catch his breath. The room suddenly seemed more claustrophobic than cozy.
“What are you doing?” She eased away from his muscular body, inching toward the kitchen sure she was about to die. If he did anything crazy, at least she could stun him with a frying pan. A rolling pin would work too, if she owned one.
“You have to help me, Gilda. My heart is beating like crazy and I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to do.” He peered out the living room window. “I think someone wired my phone and is trying to kill me.”
“Wired your phone? What are you...?” She paused. “You think someone tapped your phone?” She took five whole seconds to revel in understanding then frowned. “Someone tapped your phone? Are you sure?”
He clutched the curtains closed with one hand. “I never told Erik or Xavier about the new karate school or the lawsuit against Walter. Erik knew about both. Funny thing is, they’re not the only ones who know.”
“Probably not,” she said. “What lawsuit against Walter?”
“You’re different.”
She grimaced. “Gee, thanks. Now, what lawsuit?”
Mick rolled his eyes and crossed the room. “What I mean is, you’re not likely to run around town blabbing to everyone. If I told Xavier, he’d tell his ex-wife and she’d tell everyone who set foot in her salon. If I told Chloe, she’d run straight home to Daddy and I’d be f...screwed.”
