Dead Without Honor

by Diane Bator

  “They won’t let me get away from work since Walter wasn’t a relative or anything.” Marion toyed with her fingers. “I saw Mick earlier. He doesn’t look so good. I mean, he looks as good as always, but he needs a long vacation.”

  Gilda set the basket on the coffee table next to her meditation candle. He and Chloe had just returned from Jamaica two weeks ago. According to Erik, they were on the verge of breaking up a week later then fighting out in public in front of the school after that. Odd. Did Mick and Chloe’s problems have anything to do with the debt Chloe mentioned to Erik?

  “Walter’s death must have really shaken Mick up. He looks awful.” Marion wiped her forehead, releasing the wet bangs plastered to her skin. “Can I get a glass of water? I’ve been running all over town doing errands and still have to get to work.”

  She poured Marion a glass of cold water. “You’re right, I’ve never seen Mick so frazzled. I think he’s actually going gray, especially after you showed up for class last night.”

  “That’s not my doing. He’s doing things that have nothing to do with me.”

  Marion gave her a hug. “Whatever you say, hon. I’ll see you later. Call me after the funeral. I want to know everything that happens, and I mean everything. You do know I’m peeved you didn’t call me last night, right?”

  “Yes, I know.” Gilda sighed. “I was a mess. Thank you for bringing the basket over. That was very sweet. I’ll bring it to the school to share with the others.”

  “Don’t you dare. This is for you to enjoy, especially those truffles.”

  “Thanks.” She really didn’t have anyone to share it with except Marion, which might have been part of the plan all along, and Gary, who sat parked out front. She’d set aside a box of chocolates to thank him for his help. “Thanks.”

  Once Marion left, she locked the door and brushed all thoughts of Gary under a mental rug. She’d talk to Marion about him later. A wave of emotion swept over her and she suddenly felt more alone than ever. To ward off the sadness, she relit the candle and sat on the cushion to finish her meditation. Even after ten minutes, her Zen-like state remained out of reach as her monkey mind did somersaults.

  Mick. Razi, Xavier. Erik. Walter. Yoshida. Why did it surprise her none of the black belts were what they seemed?

  Chapter 16

  Gilda wore her black shift dress for Walter’s funeral since it was the one dress in her closet she could pull on with her muscles so sore. Her mother’s mantra “every girl needs to own a little black dress” always came back to haunt her on occasions like this. Years of living on her own still hadn’t silenced the echo of her mother’s fashion advice.

  Given the option, Gilda preferred the pastel blue suit and black silk blouse hanging next to the black dress. She added a colorful lace shawl to the boring black dress. “Take that, Mom.”

  She slipped into her favorite black flats to appease her screaming calves and shuffled down the hall. Everyone she knew would be at the funeral, including the remaining black belts, and she had a zillion questions, the biggest being “Which one of you idiots killed Walter and what were you thinking?”

  Someone rapped on her front door as she reached for the black clutch on the counter. Who couldn’t wait long enough to see her at Dunn’s Funeral Home in ten minutes? She grabbed the clutch and made her way over to open the door.

  “Hey, Sherlock.” Mick nodded from the other side of the red door. Black shoes, black fitted slacks, black dress shirt open at the collar and a black mark on his face from the cut he got the night before at the workshop. He looked like a long piece of bruised licorice.

  Gilda ignored the flutter in her chest and got straight to business. “What do you want?”

  Despite the occasion and the bluish hues on his face, the corner of his mouth twitched. “I thought I’d escort you to the funeral home. I know you’re rattled and facing Yoshida didn’t help. I never should’ve let things get that far.” He grinned. “You should get a black belt just for that.”

  “How thoughtful.” And self-serving. “Isn’t your girlfriend going with you today?”

  “She couldn’t get the time off and I didn’t want to walk into the funeral home alone.” He looked away to the street as Gary drove away. “Why was Gary parked across from your house?”

  “He saw me leave the school last night and took pity. I guess he’s still keeping an eye on me.” She followed him out and locked the door behind them, even though she’d never felt the need to do so before, and followed him to the sidewalk. “So why the escort? Were you worried I wouldn’t show up?”

  “When Thayer told me you thought Xavier tried to poison you, I got worried.”

  “Thayer?” she asked. “I thought you two hated each other. How come he’s suddenly telling you my life story?”

  Mick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because he heard about what happened in class last night. He also found out Xavier brought me a coffee that morning too and wanted to know if it tasted bad or if I got sick.”

  “And did you?” Her eyes widened.

  “I never drank it,” he said. “I dumped it out once it was cold because I’d already had three cups that morning. Did you drink yours?”

  “I pretended to until he left then I brought it to Thayer.” Gilda hugged her arms to her stomach. “He kept talking about poisons and I wasn’t sure what to think.”

  “Clever girl. Impulsive and suspicious, but clever.” Mick turned. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

  Thoughts tumbled like puppies in Gilda’s head. She couldn’t make sense of it all, especially after so few hours of sleep. What would Xavier have to gain by poisoning her? Unless he’d killed Walter and had a lot to hide. Or unless, like Mick suggested, she was ready to suspect the worst of her friends. Besides, she hadn’t asked anyone questions about the murder until later.

  She blew out a sigh and followed Mick into the funeral home, already filled to capacity. Gary nodded to her then turned to chat with Mrs. Watson, who owned the consignment store. The three strangers near the casket were probably Walter’s kids from his first marriage.

  Mick led her toward Xavier, Erik, Razi, and Yoshida, whose gaze seemed focused on something or someone across the room. Yoshida took a quick glance at Gilda and frowned, as though she wasn’t quite the right shades of black or blue for his liking.

  “Geez, Mick, you look as bad as Gilda,” Erik said. “It’s about time you two showed up. We thought you were going to leave us here alone.”

  Mick nodded. “I wanted to make sure Gilda got here okay. Excuse me. I’m going to pay my respects before the service.”

  Yoshida’s face darkened. “She is not here to cause trouble, is she?”

  No more than you. Gilda bit the inside of her cheek and fought to keep her mouth shut. The last thing she wanted was another bout with Yoshida, particularly in public.

  “You never know. I guess you’d better keep an eye on her.” Mick waved a hand then strolled over to talk to Jade.

  Yoshida turned in silence and headed toward the casket.

  Razi stood with his feet shoulder width apart. “How are you, Miss Wright?”

  “Alive and kicking. So far.” Probably the wrong thing to say under the circumstances, but the others echoed her sentiments with a round of nods.

  “Amen to that.” Erik walked past Mick then exited the room.

  Yoshida followed him at a distance.

  Gilda sucked in a sharp breath then took a step to go after them.

  “Miss Wright.” Jade Levy, jaw tight, blocked her path. She’d foregone the geisha look for a tailored black suit and a touch of makeup to lighten the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  Xavier and Razi said their condolences then shuffled toward the casket.

  “I hear you have been asking questions about my husband’s killer,” Jade said.

  Her face warmed. “Walter was a friend. I just want to help.”

  “So you said.” The widow stiffened. “Please do us both a f
avor and leave things alone. You do not want to get in over your head.”

  “Is that a threat?” Gilda gave a nervous laugh and wished Mick would return soon.

  “I am not a killer. Please stay away from the ones I love. It is most unpleasant when bad things happen to good people.” She brushed something off Gilda’s shoulder.

  Lint? Black widow spider? Gilda shivered, not used to such paranoia. “What do you plan to do now that Walter’s gone?”

  “If the police approve, I will go to New York with my family then decide what to do next,” Jade said. “I do not wish to cause anyone further trouble.”

  The fine hairs on Gilda’s arms rose. “I’m sure a change of scenery will help.”

  Jade grasped her arm. “I know you are trying to help, Miss Wright, but none of the people you deal with are what they seem.”

  “But Mick—”

  “Especially Mick,” she said. “Be careful. You have no idea what kind of devil those men are involved with.” Jade left the scent of jasmine in her wake as she walked away.

  Gilda stood alone with her mouth agape. A devil? Did she mean Yoshida or Gary?

  Mick nudged her lower jaw upward. “Trying out for a job as a fly catcher?”

  “No, I—” She paused, glancing to the casket. “I’m going to say my good-byes.”

  He grasped her arm. “You sure everything’s okay? You really don’t look so good. What did Jade say?”

  “Nothing,” Gilda said. “I’m just in pain and hate funerals.”

  “Not many people enjoy them, especially the guy in the box.” Mick held her elbow and steered her to the casket. Was he afraid she’d make a dash for the French doors? No worries there. Even Mrs. Watson could have run faster than her today. “Notice anything odd about him?”

  She studied Walter, touching her fingers to her lips to keep from crying. His hair never looked tidier. “He’s not wearing a gi?”

  “Try harder.”

  “Give me a hint.”

  “His jacket. Breast pocket,” Mick murmured against her hair.

  The pocket of Walter’s suit bulged with a white napkin folded with double points. Nestled inside was a piece of darker fabric rolled into a scroll. “What is it?”

  “Pretend to cry,” he said.

  “What?” She stared. “Why?”

  He nudged her ribs with his elbow and dug into a large bruise. “Just pretend to cry.”

  Gilda bowed her head, tears welling in her eyes from the sharp pain. When her gaze fell on Walter’s heavily made-up face, she forgot about Mick and whatever he was about to pull. Her tears fell as reality crashed in. Walter was dead and she’d never see him again.

  “Are you okay, Sherlock?” Mick put one arm around her as he pulled the dark fabric from Walter’s pocket. He scrunched it in his hand.

  “No, I’m not okay.” She dabbed at her eyes. “That hurt. Are you nuts?”

  An elderly man cleared his throat. “Please be seated. The service is about to begin.”

  Mick hushed Gilda when she tried to ask questions and led her to a seat. He stuffed the fabric scroll in her purse then rested his hands in his lap.

  She found it hard to concentrate through the service, more focused on the swatch of cloth than on the minister’s words and sentiments. The material seemed so familiar she itched to pull it out of her purse for a peek. How had Mick known to look for something out of place?

  While everyone else drove out to the cemetery after the service, Gilda stepped into the sunlight not sure which direction to point her shoes. Her hands shook and her legs were weak. She itched to find somewhere to check out that piece of cloth.

  Mick placed a hand on her lower back and steered her toward Café Beanz. “Come on. You need some caffeine and a large dose of sugar.”

  “Are you a doctor?” Gilda sniffled.

  “Just a concerned friend.”

  “Since when?” she asked. “Since you shoved the cloth from Walter’s pocket into my purse? You know we could both go to jail for tampering with evidence.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He slid one hand around her waist. “I felt bad I let you down since I didn’t believe you when you started to snoop around and I wanted to help.”

  “You didn’t believe a man with a sword in his chest was murdered?”

  “Ouch. That was uncalled for.” He stared. “No, I didn’t believe someone I knew could kill him. Idle threats are one thing, but to follow through takes something I can’t fathom.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Mick opened the door to Café Beanz, led her to a corner booth, then ordered coffees and two slices of peach pie. “All right, fork it over, Sherlock.”

  Gilda pulled out the roll of rust-colored fabric and spread it on the table. In small block letters on one edge of the cloth, someone had painstakingly written “first, not last.” A shudder ran through her and her stomach sank. That sounded a lot like a threat. “It’s the first kanji from the missing scroll. Whoever killed Walter must’ve taken the scroll. Why would they cut out the kanji and put it in the casket?”

  Mick crumpled the cloth into his hand like a used napkin and sat back.

  Seconds later, the waitress arrived with their coffees. “Be right back with that pie.”

  “No rush.” He smiled. Once she’d winked at him then left, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “No one would have known it was there, but the killer. The police would never notice it. Not our police, anyway.”

  Gilda sighed. “They’re not all incompetent, just Thayer. You have to give Fabio and the others some credit. How did you notice it?”

  Mick grunted then handed the piece of cloth to Gilda, his fingers brushing hers. “I think you’d better hang onto this since you’re the local P.I.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said.

  “You notice things other people don’t.” He shrugged. “For example, that the scroll was missing and the dent in Xavier’s fender. Look, Gilda, I’m not sure if you trust me or not, but we need to stick together.”

  She took a deep breath. “That means you have to trust me too. I didn’t know about Walter and Jade’s history or that Erik wanted to leave the school or that Xavier—”

  Mick drew a hasty line with one finger across his mouth.

  “What?” She frowned then turned to see what he was looking at.

  Xavier strolled toward them his suit rumpled and tie askew. His face was red and his left eye puffy with angry, red knuckle marks in his flesh. He ordered a coffee on his way past the waitress then slid on the bench next to Gilda. “I see you guys didn’t go to the cemetery either.”

  “I’ve already said my good-byes.” She glanced at Mick then moved closer to the window.

  He shot her a warning glare. “I wanted to make sure Gilda was okay. I thought she might pass out when she saw Walter.”

  She raised her eyebrows. She spent a lot more time with Walter’s body than he had. What was he up to?

  Xavier patted her knee beneath the table and his hand lingered for a couple seconds longer than she was comfortable with. “It’s okay, babe. For the record, I don’t even want to go to my own funeral.”

  “Amen to that. How’s Erik holding up?” Mick asked. “I saw you talking to him when we left. Was he the one who roughed you up?”

  “I tripped on the curb and fell.” He turned a deeper shade of crimson. “Erik caught me.”

  “More like his knuckles caught you.” Mick smirked. “You need a better cover story.”

  Gilda had doubts as well, which nearly scuttled away when her pie, warm and dripping with melting ice cream, arrived. She was sure Erik had made it appear he’d helped Xavier up since he was fast and sneaky. His speed and agility gave him an edge in karate, particularly in tournaments. It also made him a likely killer.

  “That looks really good.” Xavier ordered a slice as well.

  “Guaranteed to shake off anything life throws at you. Eat up.” Mick nudged her plate closer then picked up
his fork and turned back to Xavier. “So what did Erik want?”

  He took his coffee from the waitress and scooped in three teaspoons of sugar. “He wanted to know what happened to the sword that killed Walter.”

  Gilda paused with a forkful of peach less than an inch from her mouth. “What?”

  “I assume the police or the crime lab still has it,” Mick said. “What does he want with it? It’s a murder weapon. Bad karma.”

  “I’m not sure. He sounded like he really wanted it, probably for...” He cast a nervous glance from Mick to Gilda.

  “I know about his new business,” Gilda said. “Is that why he wants the sword? As a decoration in his karate school?”

  Across the table, Mick cocked his head, a bead of vanilla ice cream on the corner of his mouth. “Who told you?”

  “Thayer and Erik.” Xavier sat back when the waitress brought his peach pie with ice cream. Before he even sipped the coffee, he dug into the pie like a starving man.

  Both men seemed to deflate then returned to their food. Xavier shoveled pie and ice cream into his mouth, but Mick moved slower. At first, she thought he savored each bite until she realized his eyes had glazed over as though his mind wandered. She hoped he’d fill her in once Xavier left. If he left.

  After five minutes, Mick pulled out his wallet and threw a ten dollar bill on the table. “I’ve gotta go. Walk Gilda home will you, Xavier? I’ll check on her later.”

  Gilda huffed as she finished the last of her pie and ice cream. She didn’t like being referred to in third person while still sitting at the table. Where was Mick off to in such a hurry and why didn’t he take her along? So much for sticking together.

  Xavier slid around to the other side of the table. “What’s with him?”

  “Maybe he’s going to see Chloe.”

  He sipped his coffee and made a face. She thought he’d probably poured in too much sugar, yet he added one more spoonful. “I thought they broke up again. Personally, I think she’s a spoiled brat and no one else likes her.”

  Apparently, Walter liked Chloe. So did Erik.

  “She’s not so bad,” Gilda said.

  Xavier snorted. “Have you noticed Gary Del Garda hanging around outside the school lately? I think he’s spying on Mick. After all, Mick is dating his daughter. I guess he’s just making sure he treats her right.”